Dr. Seuss Land

The small Styrofoam cups arrive at the table with their frothy milk tops steaming. And the conversation takes place the way it has many times before--over a cup of

I remember our first cup as fresh as the last. She ordered her Cafe au Lait and I commented that it was a fancy way of asking for coffee with steamed milk. Both her and the barista gave me their disapproving glances and the motions began: Clink, sputter, clank then the long awaited hiss. She called me an asshole and I invited her to dinner. 

We walked out to her car as she told me no multiple times. She said I was crazy for asking. I told her I've traveled to a world reminiscent of a Dr. Seuss Land where broccoli trees sprout from the ground and smoke seeps into a Spanish sky. A place where traveling through troupes of gypsies dancing on pieces of cardboard was an act that faded into the familiar background as you walked to this crazy place.

 I promised her at this moment that one day I would take her.  

"You're crazy," she giggled in response. She climbed into a poorly parallel parked car and with a small wave she was gone. The car clinked, sputtered, and clanked down the road and she was gone. 

I snapped back to reality and continued our conversation over dos cafecitos.