Love at First Sight!

And I knew it was love at first sight even though I could only see the back of your head because you were sitting with your mother in the seat ahead of me on the bus, your hair in the style of Stevie Nicks at her best -circa Rumours- lying straddled over the back of your seat. And I couldn't help myself by subtlety leaning forward and grabbing a delicate whiff of it: butter pecan- such lovely scents they make these days. And then, compelled by our sudden mutual attraction, I stroked the back of my hand across a section of your hair dangling over the seat and nearing my knee, and then, even more compelled, I threaded your hair through my left hand and gazed forlornly at it like a puppy, or a movie star in a scene flooded by waves of Spanish guitar.
And it was then that your mother accosted me, calling me a pervert or something, and I was stunned at the interruption of our impromptu romance and the interruption to the delicious candor of your voice as you reasoned to your mother of Lisa's intentions of leaving Kevin, your brother. And I, being coy, said that I thought you were my sister and that I was purporting a practical joke and that this was all just a misunderstanding. And I thought -and I knew- you'd agree that this was a great tactical approach because sometimes mothers don't approve of their daughters suiters.
And what luck it was that we all got off at the same stop and that I just happened to follow you for three blocks and that you entered the Bridal Boutique- it was at this point I realized how wonderful a daughter you were to be supporting your mother on her second or third marriage by accompanying her at a dress fitting. And it was with uncertain surprise to me that you tried on a dress, but then I occurred that you knew, like I knew, that we were for real. And that your mother wasn't getting married for a second or third time, but it was you, committing to me, that quickly, after such brief courtship.
And as I stepped away from that pillar and out from behind the mannequin closer to you your mother made a motion to someone and pointed in my direction and then a large man dressed in security type clothing came over and escorted me out the large Romanesque-like front doors- me hurriedly gazing over my shoulder displaying heartache and tears, arms flailing, searching for happy endings. And as I reluctantly moped down the street, a little bothered at the turn of events, I wondered if you were feeling, like I was feeling, that our fates had been isolated- however temporary they must have been- by your overbearing, dictating mother.
And I couldn't help but think about what your mother had said about your being blind as I was shoveled out of the store by the burly guy, and I assumed she was trying to dissuade my advances, and as I started thinking about you for the rest of the day I went and got my hair cut and then bought reading glasses shortly after the follicle adjustment and went home and looked at the bus schedules on the Internet so I could be on the same bus next week when surely you would be there as well and our romance could script another chapter.