You smile,
And for a second all the world changes and
I'm free again. Shall I seat over there? Pois bem. Very well.
I practice my pitch. `A cheeseburger, rare, with a side of fries'.
Maybe confident. Or maybe smiling. Oh, not too smiley, you
know where that gets us.
`A cheeseburger, medium, with a side of fries.' But this time
you don't smile.
And the world changes once again. The sword of Damocles falls
over my head in plural, once again, and reminds me of my inescapable karmic
condition that leaves no solution but to return to the conversation
that was taking place before without thinking of whether or not my
words combined with a confident but not-too-smilyish grin conveyed my
wish of having the waitress for dinner instead of the hamburger but this
in a polite and elegant manner because even if us strangers have a bad
reputation that is easily changed by a confident not-too-shaby smile
that conveys all that we are and dispells what we are not.
Yes! More water. Yes! THANK YOU! And I will have the chocolate mousse.
The one served by your white long languid fingers that make me want to die
so, many times.
But there are no more smiles. Except for the artificial one that precedes the
check, and foresees a tip which it gets.
That is the savior smile. The one that escapes for wanting something in return.
The only true smile that has a first intention. Which is not "genuine" like the ones
who show up mingled with laughters and fun jokes.
That smile tells me that it was not so bad.
And that in the end it really didn't matter.
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