I was digging through my car
looking for a pink book under
the muddy mess of bottles and sound equipment
when I heard her voice say
"Fucking technology, man."

I'd noticed her.
She had black hair
with a blue sheen like a cartoon
pulled into a high pony tail with her bangs hanging
brushed off to one side.
She had a tattoo
with blue glitter or rhinestones or both
pasted to it
drawing my eyes to it as though I were a child.

She was bigger than me,
looked like a grown up, taller, stronger,
definitely capable when it came to automobiles.

She looked at me as she walked past my car
and with a slight nod
like the nod the neerdowell gang leader gives
to the expectant little boy
she invited me to walk beside her,
and like that boy,
I followed like a stray puppy.

She talked as I struggled
to keep stride with her long, tall legs
she smiled and laughed boisterously
when I made a stupid joke
not allowing me to fall flat.

The walk from that Korean church parking lot
was too short
and when I told her,
"Welp, this is me,"
she just shrugged,
no big deal,
catch you later,
have a nice life
kind of shrug and smile,
the sort that someone
for whom everyone is a potential best friend
potential lover
is generous to give away.

I turned and watched her
through the bushes as she went
and wanted to yell,
to tell her that I could be her best friend
I could certainly use a friend
so much bigger than I am
so exaggerated in all of her qualities,
but I stood silent
and watched her go.