The girl at Native Foods

She is beautiful. Very short blond hair, lovely big, sad eyes, and full lips. But I realized today that I can't put her into a story. I can't describe her well enough to even put her into a song. It's as if the singularity of her wowing appearance has prevented my creative faculties from functioning. And I don't know enough about her to go on reality. Is she a princess? A damsel? A fighter? A gentle healer? Or perhaps a barwench? Or an office worker, or a stay-at-home mom? Or perhaps an academic? Introvert? Extrovert? Does she challenge the world intelligently and with heartfelt energy? Does she succumb to the listless malaise that sometimes afflicts youth when no clear path presents itself? Is she doomed to an ordinary existence? Is she cursed to live in interesting times? Is she a student? Is she a lesbian? A drug addict? A philosopher?

Here is what I think.

I think she is an artist. I think she stays up late at night, singing folk songs around a campfire with friends. I think she only takes one hit of the joint that gets passed around. She doesn't say much, she is in fact very quiet, but she keeps a journal and tries to releive her constant worry of the world through writing about it, but it doesn't really help. She is bored by her job, but likes the people she works with. She loves dogs, but is ambivalent about babies. She likes boys with tatoos and long, matted hair. She doesn't like boys approaching her unless invited, which she does with her eyes, which everyone tells her are beautiful. She talks with her mom on the phone when she's lonely. She thinks with nostalgia of her childhood and worries that they were the best days of her life. She was the youngest child and has already rebeled in the usual ways and found it dull. She has an older brother, who moved to Chicago. She missed him a little bit, and wonders what the future holds for her.

No comments: