You were crossing First at Nanaimo in short shorts, sexy tattooed legs for days. Hair cut in chunky bangs dyed something cyan-magenta. I'm the full-sleeved beard-o in black tee, dark hair and dark Ray-Bans driving the white delivery van. You rubber-necked, all come-hither. First, crossing in front, then looking back again... then once more as I waited on your strut, crossing Nanaimo. We ogled each other five times. Give me another look. I'm your type. You're definitely mine.