Girl in Coffeeshop

My friend Zac and I were hanging out on the redwood patio of a Northern California coffeeshop. Everywhere, I could see the excited green of the ferns through the diamonds of the lattice. We were just sipping this groovy French Press and shooting the wind.

"One day, a long time ago, but easily confused with today or tomorrow, I lost a girl in a coffee shop," I said.

"Who cares, man?" said my friend Zac, "You get so many hot bitches."

"Yeah, but she wasn't a bitch."

"A bitch is a bitch," Zac said lazily as he took a drag off his cigarette and eyed a couple of scantily clad girls walking by. The girls smiled coyly at him. I had to admit he looked good with his long blonde hair and silver sunglasses. But I never tell my friends how beautiful they are; they wouldn't understand.

Instead, I took a sip of my coffee, just black coffee: no sugar, no milk, no cream. You see, a true lover of coffee likes his coffee straight and bitter. I guess you could say that about a true lover of life, too.

"Her name was Meg. She was really rad and had this really strong aura about her. We'd go camping on Mount Ranier and just sit out nights looking at the stars. We talked about all sorts of trippy stuff," I said.

"So how'd you lose her?" asked Zac.

"Well, I kind of meant to, I guess.

I don't remember the coffeeshop. You know all coffee shops are the same to me these days. We were inside having boysenberry lattes and she said, ‘I really love you, Sean.'

I said, ‘yeah, I love you, too. You're the hottest girl I've ever seen.' And I meant it, man.

She got this gleam in her eyes and asked, ‘Really, even though I have small boobs?' And I said:..."

"What, she had small boobs?!" interjected Zac. "I'd never have a girlfriend with small boobs."

"You don't understand Zac," I replied. "I liked her personality, not her boobs. But I told her, ‘Definitely, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever known.'

And as I was saying that, I heard this beautiful, floating woman's voice singing some punk song; I don't really remember which one but I think it was a Green Day cover. But I looked up and there was this pink-haired chick playing an acoustic guitar. Our eyes met.

Megan just turned around and glared at this girl. That's how Meg was. She was really protective of our relationship.

I said to her: ‘I'm fascinated by your personality, your strength and determination. And I guess I love you because you really care about me. You're not any like other girl, Meg.' And I was checking out this blonde chick's torpedoes. Man, they were huge and shaped just right. And I realized that I hadn't been with anyone but Meg for a long time.

‘I like your hair', said Meg, "It's really cool how you dyed it blue. And it's cute how it's always spiked; I mean always.'

‘It's not spiked when I get up in the morning.'

‘But I don't see you like that much. Maybe we could live together someday and I could look at you every morning.'

‘I'll be right back,' I told her. I went to the bathroom. Inside, I wrote my phone number down on a scrap of paper. I took the long way back to our table. I walked past the hot blonde chick and I reached my hand out toward her with my note, hidden inside a folded dollar bill. She probably smiled at me as she took the dollar but I wouldn't really know. I was too busy checking her out. And then she opened up the dollar right there and took out the note; It wasn't very smooth of her. I sat back down at our table. But Meg gave me this really dirty look and said, ‘I'm leaving.'

‘But you have to give me a ride home,' I pointed out.

‘Go to the devil,' she practically shrieked. You see, even though she loved sex, she was really Christian.

‘I already did,' I laughed, taking another drink of my sweet latte. She ran off. At the time I didn't really care. But she'd left her latte and flavored lattes are so expensive. So I poured the rest of hers into mine and hung around while I finished it. The blonde chick was trying hard to get my attention, stroking her guitar's neck and stuff, but I didn't look at her much.

I was thinking about the coffee. You know, a bitch's a bitch. But the coffee was just too sweet. I mean, dude, how can you taste the coffee unless it's fuckin black and bitter?"

"Yeah, none of that candyass coffee," agreed Zac.

"Then I went to the bus stop and just waited. It was there that it really hit me that I'd lost Meg and I still loved her. It was this sad, hopeless feeling and I really liked it."

"Far out," said Zac.

"I took out a cigarette and wondered why I picked that cigarette. And then I knew that I picked it cause it was the next one. It was just like any cigarette; Meg was just like any girl. I really enjoyed that cigarette, Zac. I just watched as the smoke curled around lazily and disappeared, leaving me behind. It just drifted into the sky in one continuos, toxic, living flow. flow."