To the girl on the bus ...

Dear girl who is standing with her back to me on the bus,

I envy your slender figure, your stylish choice in girlsish attire, and especially your long, flowing locks. You obviously take care of your mane as only a true lady can: Washing it, conditioning it, cutting it into that straight Cleopatra shape every other week, scenting it with exotic oils from the east, combing it when it is ruffled by the incorigible mountain breeze. Don't blame the wind, shapely long-haired girl on the bus; it only reaches out to touch your amber strands as all the elements strain to do. The very sun comes out so that its golden fingers might play through your ethereal strands.

I am breathless with excitment to behold your face, dearest girl who is standing with her back to me on the bus. I am counting the seconds until I exit, and am able to brush past you and experience divinity.

5,4,3,2,1 ....


Ahhhh.

I have one request, lovely girl with the long, long locks that stood in front of me on the bus:

Shave your beard. It ruins the effect.