I did not buy the flowers.

I simply called to mind what I had originally put down on my budget for the week and there was no seventy-five cents for a bunch of lowly, silly flowers. And so, I walked on.

It was at the corner as I was putting my foot down on the curb that my eyes met hers. It was a ludicrous moment. She was quite blonde and the haircut really belonged more in La Strada than there where it was. The bangs were uneven above the eyes and the eyes were very blue-and-and she had a rather extraordinary pair of cool lips. . .

And well-she was wearing a pair of those very tight khaki frontier pants that they all seem to have grown so fond of. And a rather rough looking grey turtleneck sweater. And, of course, sneakers-and not a sock in sight. It's a sort of way of dress from the campuses, I suppose, which provides something for them. As a matter of fact, she had terribly slim ankles and her thighs seemed very round and full in the pants..

Well I don't think she could have been more than twenty, but one of the brazen ones. I know that particular type because there are so many in this neighborhood. They love this neighborhood. I live here because it is so convenient to my work. I also know the type because they always seem to stare at me. I have never understood it...

Well-I don't really know why I turned around to look back at her after I had passed her, except of course because of that really outlandish outfit, well, one would stare. And, as a matter of fact, and I trust you will understand how sometimes the bizarre can be charming-well, she was a very lovely girl...

In any case, when I turned to look around at her the second time-she was following me with her eyes! And smiling! They have no shame! Right there in the public street-she smiled at me! In broad daylight!

I was very angry!

Now I have seen her again this evening. In that dreadful little restaurant where so many of them go. I go there because I like the food. She she had on something pink and soft and dark Italian pumps. I could see that the one with her, the slender dark and pretty one in a yellow dress could make her laugh at anything.

Once ... before I had finished the scallopine . . . her laughter rose up beyond any other sound in the room and swept into the wine on my table and made it tingle and sing against the lonely glass . . . I picked it up then . . . the wine that held her laughter... and poured it down my throat and tried to remember the the precise value of

-seventy-five cents...

About Our Authors

DEL, the initials of Doyle Eugene Livingston, was born in Pennsylvania in 1933. Presently living in California, he is working with the dramatic verse form.