Chances are high
that you do know me
I am (not) her
I am that wilting breathless mother, heaving with doubt that the checker will work fast enough to get us through the check-out without fury boiling over through the pounding fists a three year old who wants, always wants.
I am that one with the dark eyes and long hair blowing in gusts of air conditioning, that one who just smiled at you from the car to your right. I caught you singing, I’m so glad you are happy.
I am a friend you thought was shy; but you realized later I just talk when I feel I have something meaningful to add. But I remember everything you say, important or not.
There are times even when I’m that dissatisfied customer, that comment card dropper, that patron that demands quality products and service, who kind of just pissed you off.
I am that woman who placed the ad on Craigslist. That ad that made your dick hard in a second, even without photos. That ad that almost made you take the step toward fulfilling that fantasy. That ad that made you wish you could just talk to your wife about how you need more attention.
I am her
And sometimes I am her
Yes, you may know me
but why don’t we pretend
our world only exists in blogland
where I am just G