Dear Bus-angel, To the girl in the purple and gold sweatpants
standing at the bus-stop on Monday morning with a cigarette in one
hand and a bottle of pinto in the other a snarl on your already
scrunched up face- you are Gorgeous. I tried to talk to you that
day but I was rebutted and you kept drinking with your back turned
toward me as a sign that I was not wanted and I am to be ignored.
I'm that guy that is always there every morning in a yellow
tracksuit always reeking of that new axe cologne asking strangers
for change so I could ride the bus. That day you in your beautiful
sweats sealed the deal on my confidence, so I'm writing this to see
if you want to go with me for a cup of coffee this Saturday.
Sincerely, Your Tracksuit Adonis.
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