What about this guy
You can't really see his face
But he likes opera
He can't be all bad
Here, click on this guy's profile.

I pick the date
I pick the place for the date
A radical book store to which he, a 47 year old English student has never been
Two blocks from where he lives on the downtown east side
It has a nice little fiction and poetry section

He crosses the street diagonally and runs his fingers through his hair
Question and answer we tell our life stories over dinner
And walking in the tourist sector out of here
Where cruise ships dock and Americans meander

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

His favorite place to work was a well known Greek resturant
Where the staff were encouraged to drink, half price upon arriving for work
The coke-dealer shows up and the day begins

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Own four Cadillac El Derados in Rome
Self-described waiter/ski bum until he was 39
Then his parents died
He didn't handle it very well
He didn't handle death very well
He took a room in the creepiest of the crappy skid-row hotels and lost his belongings when he couldn't pay the rent
Claims he moved down there because that's where the services are
You've got your rehab and your detox and your counciling you've got your 12 step and your food bank
Warning, warning, red flag
No one moves to skid row to get clean
No one moves to skid row to get clean
Will I be playing part of the woman trying to help his life get on track
Helping him get his life back on track

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Standing on the pier
Half-watching the sun go down
Cloud of mist is giving great definition to the trees
Which should have been flat and invisible
I'm thinking of saying something of how the mist is making things clear
But I decide to keep that thought to myself

I feel I'm with a boy
A very young boy
He's only been away from home 27 years
Only 27 summers
27 winters of partying and skiing
I guess that's why he hasn't gotten anything together yet
I don't think he realizes it
But his life has gotten away from him
After quitting school in grade 11, he bought a van so he could go on ski trips to Vermont
He didn't leave home until he was 20

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

I ask about his plans
He might like to go backpacking in Europe
Skiing in Switzerland
But not while he's still a student
I cannot make him a 47 year old man
He remains a boy
Tall, skinny, boyish features
With that faded, worried look

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Slips into an anxious silence
I feel the urge to ask what's wrong
Oh God, let me not start with that
I think he may have run out of things to say
I told my Reader's Digest version of my life over dinner
Which makes me realize that I could probably pitch my novel in 2 minutes as a screen play
He gave no indication of being attracted to me
No compliments, no lingering looks across the table intending to reveal interest
We didn't talk about relationships or dating expectations
It was kind of like being stuck with a visiting friend of a friend getting rooked into going out for dinner
Our conversation was only kind of okay
Only kind of okay

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Near the end
Out on the pier
After the sun has gone down
He asks me about this music of mine
Is it ever all out punk?
He seems concerned that it might be hardcore punk
I stand, middle aged woman in a fantastically subtle silk jacket all the way from Japan, Hush Puppies, curly hair flowing in the wind
And this guy's fretting over the possibility that I'm actually Henry Rollins
I try to explain punk myself
But fail on making an impact here
He never did ask the name of my band
He never tried to touch me

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

I ask what sort of music he listens to
He says his taste is eclectic
My least favorite answer to a question meant to increase understanding
Eclectic in this case means that music isn't really that important to him
Isn't really that important to him
He says his taste varies, but he's never been into the live music scene
Never been, never been into the live music scene
After eclectic comes techno
And I'm still trying to make him 47
But he's stuck in my mind a boy
A boy that might backpack around Europe once he finishes school

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

Carefully, I ask if he does anything I might call creative
Perhaps he finds creative expression making an espresso, a cappaucino
I don't know
Thinks a minute and says he doesn't play music or paint, if that's what I mean
But he does watch TV
Free cable in his creepy, freaky hotel room
And he likes to go, he likes to go to the movies, to the movies
I can only half think about being so gray and dispassionate to call watching TV creative
I guess to him, art is a hobby
And his hobby is being entertained
The sun is down and I blurt out
"I've got to get back to the other side of town"
At my bus stop I ask him if I can give him a hug
I mean, a hug goodbye
We hug, and he cheers up and decides to wait with me for the bus

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy

By the time I get home
His email to ask me out again
I should've skipped the hug
I go to bed, rather than him reply
Perhaps he's on antidepressants and he's psychotic
My internet dating experience
I want to get back
I want to get back tomorrow

Fallen skier, waiter, party guy
Fallen skier, waiter, party guy