The girl from the Italian restaurant
Gives me a smile every time I go out for smoke.
We say silent “hi”s to eachother from afar
And I always give her my best smile back
And over the course of each smoke I try to catch a glimpse of her
And she does the same thing back
I know because we sometimes catch eachother
Looking at eachother
And we smile at eachother again.
I know nothing about her
Other than she works across from my building
And she is cute as a button
And she has a smile that makes me feel great and nervous
And she knows nothing about me
Except that I like to smoke
She counts how many, and holds up her hand to remind me
One, then two, then three so far
And I’m up for killing myself faster, four, five
To get a few more smiles a day.
I know we’ll never actually talk
I can’t imagine ever knowing her name
I don’t know why she started smiling at me
Yet I wonder why people don’t do it more
for the love of God, ask her out!
Yeah, go order some pasta man. Food might be good, company even better.