You, twenty something brunette with beautiful eyes wearing a tweed
coat over a black dress.
Me, Keanu Reeves.
We passed each other at the parking lot outside of the MOCA on
Saturday. The guy you were holding hands with was mediocre, you were
not. In fact, it's a shame you left the exhibit so early; I would
have loved to dance with you.
Ditch your man and let's make this happen.
