and so i stepped up to her, ignoring
the mindless drivel the heart sang,
and i placed my order:
brunette, petite,
experienced lips; memory told me
her name was amelie, but then
i'd always liked that name,
hadn't i?


the girl behind the counter -- not bad herself,
not bad at all -- smiled tiredly,
easily: "will that be for here
or to go?" she said, and dear god,
there was a mind manifesting itself
behind those painted eyes -- and of
course i said "to go" because i neither expected
nor desired to endure intelligence there,
and she looked at me with those sad eyes
and nodded like she understood.


amelie (was that her name?) came down and
she smiled, too,
like she saw right through me,
and i was sure she knew
me then but maybe i didn't know her at all;
tried not to make a point of avoiding her eyes, took
her arm and ducked my head to the
necessarily nameless girl
standing behind the counter; avoided her
eyes too as my maybe-amelie, my incognito lady
led me through the door.