Not What I Need

I just met him.
He is short with acne on his chin.
He has his checkered, punk shoes,
and blue eyes.
Blue eyes.

The flash from my camera blinds him,
while he wears my cowgirl hat.
He's a singer in a garage band.
He wears his pants too low.
I laugh at him and with him.
I laugh.

He is not my type,
but I am intrigued.
He asks me about my past.
I laugh “This is not what I need.”
This is not what I need.