The Kind of Girl

1st Place in Poetry

By Kristel Yoneda

On Monday, I watch her from across the table
Sipping her coffee through an oversized straw
She taps her fingers in perfect rhythm
To the melody softly repeating inside my heart
She's the kind of girl who always wears heels
Even on lazy days like these
Just to feel a little taller, she says
Bringing her index finger and thumb together
And squinting at the little space in between

She rests her chin in the palm of her hand
Her lips pressed together to form a slight smile
She chooses her stories very carefully
And never reveals too much
But just enough to keep me hanging
On her every word

On Tuesday, she asks if I like what she's wearing
Nervously pulling at the thin metal necklace
That caresses her neck and collarbone
She's not quite sure if she fits in for a show
And it's way too crowded to enjoy the band tonight
But she's listening anyway
Smiling at me when she recognizes all her favorite parts
She's the kind of girl who never sings along
And yet always knows the words
Too embarrassed, she says
Gently touching my arm for emphasis

When the band finally takes a break, we go outside
And find comfort beneath a flickering street light
She tells me that she's had a good time
But when I try to speak, I can barely move
There is something about her
That I never noticed before
Something about the way she looks at me
That makes me believe that she could save me

On Saturday, she plays with her fingers in her lap
As we drive in the early morning
She rolls her window down and touches the wind
So I point at the sky and ask her what star that is
She chuckles a bit and says she thinks it's a planet
And tells me how I would love the stars in Kauai
How they hang like a blanket in the night sky
She's the kind of girl who can paint perfect pictures
For me to hang on the walls of my memory

She checks her watch and in disbelief
Wonders where all the time has gone
When we pull into her driveway
She doesn't get out immediately
But instead waits for a moment and smiles at me
She tells me that New Year's at her house
Is like an unmovable feast
And that I should come and sit next to her
If I wanted to, that is, since January is quite far off
She nervously laughs and touches her mouth
Waiting for something to happen
Or not to
She tells me to make sure I mark my calendar
Because she will be counting the days until then

But if I could
I'd want to measure my days
With her smile