pickup artist

I have a place i go to write.
surrounded by books, but more importantly women.

it is my spot.
full of life,
commotion
and Armenians.

Today the people next to me
wouldn't shut up.

So.
I moved tables,
next to a little old lady.

She was old.
really old
taking up
a big table.
Plastic
bags of junk around her.

She spoke to me.

She told me
she was Armenian
she said she spoke three
langues as a child.
she said she learned spanish
in Argentinia,
she spoke to me in spanish...
and wanted to know what i was
studying,
learning,
reading.

I responded in spanish, i was polite.
kind.

While I spoke I thought to myself:
Loneliness must be a real bitch.
our elderly
reaching out, desperate
for human contact.

then for a second it crossed my mind.
or
maybe she just thought i was cute.


08'