Opening Nights

"I love opening nights"

I looked up to find

smiling eyes waiting for response.

Then, at the pigeons before us

squabbling over a discarded pretzel.

//You're way too attractive for me.//

Sitting on the bench opposite to me in the middle of

Union Square, ignoring the notifications on my phone.

"I've always thought the best shows were

really-off-Broadway," I offered back to her.

Not sure if this was banter or

terrible mistake. Hoped I was clever.

"It's not Fosse, but

the choreography has that certain..."

"Vigor?"

"I was going to say desperation,"

she laughed. I laughed. Warm air, hurried currents.

We sat there

watching

the first act unfold in a flurry of wings and tail feathers

like a mass of tussling showgirls looking for

a dropped pearl earring.

I felt the conversation dying, drying out

and pressed

to revive it.

"You can't beat these seats either," I offered.

//Stupid.// No, worse: //Try-hard.//

"No,"

she said. "Not at these prices."

"You paid?"

"In a sense."

"How's that?"

"Well, that's my pretzel." We watched as one of the feathered things tried to drag her

dropped provisions

away from the group.

"A traveling show," I noted.

//Why do I keep pressing

this conversation? Should I just

get up? Leave you alone to

be free of me?//

"You're funny," she smiled,

again. I floated off

over her upward curved mouth.

"Actually," I lied, "I'm June."

//Why did I lie? Would you want me any more

if I was June?//

"Maya," she offered her hand and I

took it. Soft

and warm. I made myself

let go of it, of her.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"I was, but

it's been a bit and she hasn't shown."

"A friend?"

//Could I have been at least?//

"A date," she said. "Online date," she clarified.

"Ah, I see," I said and

cursed

inwardly.

//I should tell her but I'm

pigeon food. No chance.//

"It's been a few years since I've been

stood up. I'm not really into

ghosting -- lack of

communication. Cruel intentions. Now I'm

out a few bucks for the train ride.

And a pretzel."

"Whoever she is, she's probably

//a coward//

not worth your time," I tried

to console her.

//It's definitely too late now

to say

anything.//

"You're probably out of her league anyways,"

I shocked myself

flirting in her time of despair.

//Smooth talker.//

"Thanks," she laughed,

an arrow at me.

"She was actually really -

she looked a little like you."

The pigeons had succeeded in

breaking the pretzel apart

and were now pecking at the bread

in two

separate groups.

"Well, it's been half an hour."

"I'm sorry about your date," I said

weakly.

"It's not your fault. It was

nice to meet you. Thanks for keeping me company."

She got up and walked through the huddled

avian masses, throwing a hand back to wave goodbye through the feathery cloud she had created.

I watched her descend into the station entrance with

her head down.

//Stupid, stupid coward I was.//