the questions.

so i must admit
after a fresh perm
a mini spree at the mall
and poppin lipgloss
ya girl was looking
damn good when i went
to walmart this evening to get
what i needed for the
remainder of the semester from hell.

and i'm in the cosmetic section
perusing maybelline lipgloss
[yeah, i had some on. but you
can never have enough] and i was
in the middle of trying to figure out
if papaya splash smells better to me than
watermelon fresh when this employee

[male, black, almond colored,
about 6 foot even,
broad shoulders,
fresh post-thanksgiving fade, crisp khakis
new looking sperrys, straight teeth,
big smile]

wearing a name tag that yelled
RUSSELL in big black letters tapped me
on my shoulder.

i stood up and put on my mug
because i thought he was going to accuse me of
stealing lip gloss but
from his
full lips, he asked me,

where's your man?

and i just sort of stood there, looking
really stupid. papaya splash in one hand,
watermelon fresh in the other.
i tried to gather my bearings,
re-establish the cool points i clearly lost
licked my lips slowly, squinted my
already chinky eyes and put my hand on
my pronounced hips.

i don't have one, i declared.

you're lying, he stated.

why would i lie? i asked.

because. you look like
the type of girl - excuse me -
the type of woman who would have
a nigga like me on lockdown.


[insert awkward, 10 second pause]


he smiles.
i frown.

well, i say
i guess appearances can be deceiving then,
as i put both papaya and watermelon
back in their respective places.

they're scared of you, russell said.

what? i ask.

i don't even know you, miss,
but i can already tell that
you would make a nigga work for his
and niggas don't like to work for anything
except...you know. he said.

yeah. i know, i replied.

i tried to stand up tall
and make myself look tough.

russ-ell, i breathed slowly.
why are you asking me all these questions?

i don't know, he said.
because i noticed you.
you're a beautiful woman and
your gear is tight but
you looked like you're missing something.

like what, i asked.

like love, he said.

[awkward silence, recommences]

and if you ever wanted to not
be lonely, he continued,
i work at register 23,
monday through friday. so maybe
one saturday you'll let me
take you out and
love you for a night.

i pick up my purse and
pat down my hair and
straighten my skirt and
i say to him

i'm too busy for love
right now but the next time
i come back home
maybe
i'll stop by
register 23.

he gives me a half smile as i
walk past him
trying to convince myself to
believe the words
that just came out of my mouth.