gone restaurant gone

A drunk fell in the alley

across the street.

He laughed

and rolled over

and pushed himself up

and leaned against a dumpster.

Small,

yellow tiles

with

red tiles

every few feet,

up and down the wall

with dirty grout filling the spaces

in between.

The smell of tortillas

in the air,

lingering with meat

and vegetables

and thick,

wild sauces.

She was there under it all,

sitting at a table in the back.

She smiled too often,

let her eyes glance

in my direction

too often,

and played with

the rim of her cup

too often.

I felt her eyes dance about me,

trying not to look too direct,

trying not to attract too much

attention to herself.

I couldn’t resist.

Her eyes caught me,

took me by surprise,

and trapped me in their stare.

I shouldn’t have been there.

It was a cheap day

and the weather was wet.

The ground was mud

and my day was short

so I stopped to grab a bite to eat

off University Avenue,

just short of downtown.

It was the last place

I should have been.

Those eyes crept up on me,

gave me a reason

and I stayed.

Out back,

a couple was arguing

in Spanish.

The tone was there,

the emotions high,

the body language

expressing more

than they would have

wanted to share.

The waitress

brought my food

and lent me a smile

that made her eyebrows rise

and her lips perk up

in the shine of the yellow room.

I nodded and looked back

at the woman across the restaurant.

She glanced back,

her lower lip twitched,

and she tried to lick away

the response.

I took the first bite of my food

and the heat took me.

There was a comfortable sting

beneath the spice,

and I took a sip of my drink.

She looked again,

this time it was more obvious.

A lock of hair fell into her face,

obstructing

her eyes. I smiled. Her lips

curled slightly

and the flash was gone.

I tried another bite

and she looked away,

out through the window

at the city

bus that stopped in front

of the restaurant.

Half a dozen people emerged,

spreading out once they hit the sidewalk.

A horn blasted at the corner

and the streetlight flashed red

at the opposing corner

and the bus was free to go.

I looked back and the woman was gone.

I scanned outside

by the outdoor

tables,

but she wasn’t there.

A variety of people

were eating outside in the sun,

leisurely scooping up forkfuls

of food in between conversations.

I was shaken.

Where could she have gone so quickly?

I stood

and moved out through the back.

Had she passed me without notice?

There was no one in the back

and the parking lot was

one fewer car.

“Did you lose something?”

the waitress asked over my shoulder.

“The woman that was

sitting

by

the

window,

where did she go?”

“I’m sorry sir,

but there was no woman sitting there.”

“No woman?!

But I saw her.

She was there just a minute ago.”

“Sorry,

there was no woman.

Do you need a refill?”

she asked.

“No,” I replied.