Forgive me if this comes out wrong,
but I couldn't help but stare--
No, don't worry there's nothing on your face,
on your shirt, or in your hair.

I'm guessing you don't get approached often,
there's no need to defend your position;
I understand the society we're living in,
Full of shallow pricks and egotistical jerks--

I get it.

So spare me the details of the made-up story
I see you fumbling behind your eyes,
I'm not going to buy it, so chill, relax,
take another sip of your drink and I'll explain why

I'm here in the first place because I know
you're dying to know why a girl like me
(not saying I am anything special
but you don't get picked up either, so let me be)

has come to sit beside you and start up
a little conversation about relationships,
and staring, and how when I look at you
I feel giddy—like I drank three screwdrivers

and a beer (but I don't drink). I can't help but wonder
have we met before? No?
Because I feel like I recognize these hands,
and how they felt against the curves

of my body. And those eyes seem like
fields of barley and wheat, and I'm running
forever into a soul I need to meet--
But I keep getting lost—so help me.

Do you recognize this face at all?
Why do I feel like we go together
like Jack and Jill, went up a hill,
and made love under the stars forever?

Oh, that's not how it goes?
Well it could...
if you would just...
would you walk me home?