Looking for a girl,
at the corner of the street –
to say hello, to warmly greet.
I have a cigarette in hand.
I puff out smoke in the warm, evening air.
A cab stops; she gets down; pays her fare.
She wears red heels,
as she walks to the corner shop.
My cigarette burnt, I let it drop.
She is 21,
with the curiosity of a young gazelle;
she leaves me sweating, looking pale.
I have no words for her.
I watch her buy a cotton candy.
No whisky tonight, only brandy.
The shopping is done;
her purple bag, she turns around;
hails for a cab; leaves, never to be found.
To follow her home would be
So I let her pass by and leave.
Lighting another cigarette, I grieve.