The booth

in the booth where she sits  
my vision stays glued to the curves of her shoulder  
internally gushing over how her tube top fits  
with the hue of her skin and I’m pulled in transfixed
according to my focus she’s the only force in the room  
her gravity having me over and over but she never knew about it  
my eyes still tracing the form of her face as it shifts  
as if in mental macro I imagine an extreme close up  
so I can see the shade of the color that she use on her lips  
and for a brief second our eyes connect and my universe flips  
but I snatch them to a diversion of spilled salt on the table  
and try to recreate the fable in my mind as I stare at the wall where I sit