Not Her Type

A tall brunette struts
along the edge of the pool.

Her floral cotton dress barely
restrains a well-tanned

boob job. With shades perched
at the base of a ponytail,

her blue eyes scan the crowd
for anyone taking the bait.

We make eye contact
for the briefest of moments

before I quickly turn away.
But her steely gaze

has already caught my
surreptitious peek,

and held in her smirk…
the truth I’m not her type.