I was not the best employee working at Old Navy while in college. Nor was I was the worst. I was just, there. I have no clever lead into the poem, but it somewhat explains the reference in it. Enjoy…
At First Sight
We stood opposite one another,
pressing our palms against the glass,
our love lines
like tributaries into the Danube.
You attributed my calluses to
I attributed your French manicure to
Little did we know at the time
that I was unemployed,
and you purchased your nails
along with matching bra and panties
It was cold.
You blew and traced
your translucent number.
I couldn’t make out the last digit
or help but question
why you’d give me false hope.
I wondered if while you were in college,
like me, you used to work at Old Navy
and when customers asked,
“Are there any more of these jeans in the back?”
replied, “Hang on, le’ me check,”
knowing there was no back.
At least we’d have one thing in common.
But that was long ago.