Postal Crush

The air blows cold about me. I see my hair fluttering from the sides of my face.
The concrete as grey as the sky.
The leaves are rustling as well as the hum then stop, hum and stop of his work bike.
As my ears focus on this noise coming closer and closer the wind suddenly becomes more wild - as if God is somehow trying to drown out my fantasies.

So many times I have walked these streets, over three years of the same old path, and only recently I have begun to amuse myself with something new.
A guiltless dream of mine growing ever more real and "do-able" after four years of neglect and lack of romance back home.

The wind drops to a wispy lull, light rain begins to drift downwards.
The bike slows behind me, then revs again as he goes to pass me.
I turn, and he stops to smile and say hello.
I smile too - look him right in the eyes.
Grey-green eyes.
"Hi. How are you?" I beam.
There, I've done it. I've broken the dutiful seal of silence I kept that was to not say hello to another man with the intention of taking the conversation further.
There never were any vows made to God or Caesar which would have forbidden this - it is just I rule of mine.

I want to know how his day is, how his week has been.
Secretly I want to know everything.
Is he in a relationship? Is he gay?
I do not think gay matters as this would never change the way he charms me.
This is my imagining and his sexsuality will never change the allure of his boyish grin.
If he is gay, then he is nothing more to me than a wonderful vision, whom I know would then be immune to my feminine charms.
It only matters if he is married. I do not cross that line. I never ever want to.
That is sacred.

If this were a forest and not suburban streets, then he'd be the Woodsman and his bike a horse.
This bike, the little daggy red bike is not something I dream of riding.
I must say I am in to much bigger things.
I know he has another bike - a Kawasaki.
I know what it's like to ride with a man such a thing that makes you feel like you are flying - but this was so long ago now.
I want to ride again.

It's not the first time he has slowed to ride along side me to talk.
think and re-think every bit of conversation.
Well, there has actually been no conversation as such, just small talk.
I've just been re-playing every word spoken in passing back in my head so many times that they've grown.
Grown in to extra words, questions and answers with added detail.
Scenarios play "what if".
Is he a womaniser? - well, what could I loose?
What could I catch?
How would I be able to turn him away myself once I'd had my fill?
What if he is dangerous?
I watch carefully his every mannerism. His facial expressions when he talks, how his eyes move when talking to me and when I make my replies.
I watch his body language.
I am always doing this.

What if he was sincere?
Honestly! It might happen!
What if he's a genuine bloke whose looking for long-term?
What if he's just a friendly guy whom talks to everyone?

What I do know is certainly true is that this story has been severely altered by my romanticised ideas and that ultimately he is just a passing phase.