By Katherine Tylevich

I was hoping we could, maybe, do some riffing. Exchange some witty back-and-forth about our ups-and-downs. I would give you the 411, and you would give me the 412, because, baby, you’re always one step ahead of me, and God that drives me wild. I’ll break it down for you: I’m a wordsmith extraordinaire. A well-intentioned verbal rebel and a hopeless romantic. And you? I can tell you’re one of my kind. You have a lexicon as vast as the Oxford D., so why is it that all you ever say to me is “please take the ticket.” I know it’s hard to open up, to trust, to love, but take a chance. Live a little. I assure you, I’m not like all the other knob-jobs that hob-knob it in the mall’s garage and then drive off without so much as a thank you (ma’am). You’re more than parking validation for me, babes. Way more. You’re validation that this world means something.

[ ]

I can tell you like where this is going.

I know the old saying, “if you got it, flaunt it.” And you’ve sure got it. That stern mechanical voice that gets me all giggly. Stoic? Yeah, maybe to those who don’t get ya, but I hear the melancholy buried within.

[Please take the ticket]

I’ll take the ticket! I’ll take it, alright! But, only if you listen to the phat rhymes I wrote about you while I sipped on Cinnamon Frappuccino the other day. Right about the time the caffeine kicked in, I kicked it in high gear, with some creativity (that’s my business). Here’s a little sample of a rap called “And I swear, by the Moon and the Starbucks and the Sky” (it’s about the relationship between the here n’now and the future):

I bet a dollar that your name is “Lilac,”

Your middle name is probably “Rose,”

Your last name will be GovershtAFAm,

If you say “yes” when I propose.

[Please take the ticket]

Patience, darling.

[Honk honk]

Ugh. Well, there seems to be a bit of traffic building up behind me. Lucky for those inconsiderate pricks who don’t understand a thing about romance, that’s as far as I got in my rap, anyway. Expression takes time, sweet thang, as I’m sure you know.

[Ho–

[Please take the ticket]

–nk]

Okay, baby. Gotta split, but I’ll leave you with these words I wrote down while eating my biscotti: Even though math isn’t my strong suit, I can see that when it comes to you and me, it all adds up. So look at the plus side (me), cause the plus side’s been hoping for some serious eye-on-eye action, to tell the truth. You know?

[ ]

Anyway, if you wanna keep playing like you playing, by all means, all work and no play … you know, however that poem goes. Is that Whitman?

Ugh. What else? What else before I go?

[Honk]

Okay! Okay. Uh. Just keep in mind that I got honorable mention in the Hard-to-Get Playoffs, okay babe? And, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.

[Thank you for shopping at Ribbondale Mall]