and i'll wait for you and your pick-up truck
even though i know you'll never come.
he asked her to move,
and she glared at him.
you're blocking my view.
he looked around them,
then stared at her incredulously.
your view of what?
the ocean?
maybe.
don't you see that every day from
your house
already?
you live in that blue house there,
don't you?
yes. and yes.
so why are you sitting in the middle of the road?
go back home.
no.
he got back into his red pickup truck
and drove off,
fuming.
but she was there again the next day,
right in
the middle of the road,
and he had to pull to a stop, again,
just to avoid running over her.
honestly. this isn't safe.
so?
he didn't have a good response to that.
he left.
for the next week,
he just drove around her.
one day, though,
she wasn't there.
i still don't know why
you chose to come into the house
with walls like faded blue eyes.
but you did that day,
you did come in; and that's the reason
why i love you this way.
he found her on the back porch.
what's your name?
lairen.
i'm lowell.
okay.
you really don't care, do you?
she glared at him from over
the canvas and easel
that separated them.
stop talking to me. i'm trying to paint.
can i watch?
no.
he did anyways.
you watched intently with your blue eyes;
i wonder now i could've missed the way
they were blue as the sea outside my window?
i can't get this color right,
she grumbled to herself, irritated.
