Romance: A Fairy Tale.

Via Jennifer Pastiloff
on Mar 14, 2011
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Part 2 of The Evolution of A Relationship. Another one from when I was a waitress.
There is no denying that sometimes what we feel is a curse…can be our greatest blessing. So much art came from those years at that café. So much poetry in the faces I saw, daily. In the dishes. In the years passed there.
Just as any time I have had my heart broken or lost someone, the pain is great but the poetry born from it: profound.


Romance: A Fairy Tale

When I finally realized who I was I wanted to go out and screw the world.

One man at a time.

I thought it only fair that everyone get a chance to see what I got.

My first victim, unassuming enough.

In fact, I can’t even recall what he was wearing.

His pants, green or a dark blue. Jeans maybe?

The color of his eyes.

The color of his hair.

Was there a gap in his teeth?

He ordered breakfast from me. I obliged.

A coffee, some eggs, bacon.

I told him we didn’t have bacon.

He grinned.

Give me what you’ve got then.

It was at that moment I knew.

I would give him what I got.


I poured more coffee into his yellow mug,

He barely looked up over his newspaper but I felt his willingness

to know the improbable

things in life, the sliding of a phone number under three dollar bills change,

and the walking away with certainty that the improbable just turned probable.

I felt his willingness to know the improbability of a garden

later that afternoon: a bottle of wine

on the table, blocking the two people.

The improbability of Can you move that bottle? I can’t see your face.

There, that’s better. There you are.

The improbability of that butterfly landing on the bougainvillea bush

and the sun dropping down for the day

so the two faces are lying faces at the moment

when the butterfly lands on the red flower bract

coddles its wings against the petal, the brilliance of its red blinding

as making love for the first time, that first skin against skin battle,

the loss of sight that accompanies it.

They aren’t telling the same stories they were telling that morning in a restaurant.

The faces are softer now, sunlight has wore them down, and they are smiling.

The two faces are telling beautiful untrue things.

That’s what a lie is: the telling of beautiful untrue things.

Love is improbable.

The butterfly is improbable,

but as I drop his change I know that we’ve already seen that butterfly.

That nothing can ever be proved,

the mathematics of two bodies coming together, inexplicable and unsolved.

That I do not even have to look back to see if he noticed my phone number,

because like all improbable things, it is bound to occur.

We are bound to be in that garden at 5 that afternoon, we are bound to stare through

the glass of a wine bottle until I ask him to move it,

when I notice a butterfly on a bush.

He is bound come sit next to me, to kiss me

in a backyard garden with the words What are the improbable things?

heavy objects knocking about in my chest.

This is no longer improbable but inevitable.

There is no mood or passion art cannot give us.

I can give anything to this. Anything.

I can make this mean anything.

I am art.

I must give what I got.

Thus, the history of art has been altered.

When he walks out of the restaurant, the history of art,

The history of me is altered.

Things either last too long or not long enough.

This will not last long enough.

So I must fill in the blanks.

My first victim: very assuming, brown eyes, brown hair,

tanned skin, green pants, brown sweater,

gap in between his teeth, English accent.

He comes into my place of work for some breakfast.

A coffee, some eggs, bacon.

As he sits at the table reading the newspaper and eating eggs,

he knows that later when we are lying in the bed

And I say How improbable, here I am, a stranger, lying in the bed with you

that he will curl into me, wipe a hair from my eye and whisper

You’re not a stranger. You’re not a stranger at all.

It is a sad madrigal, this tale.

I said I wanted to go out and screw the world

but that was another lie, another beautiful untrue thing.

I found him where I knew he would be,

poking at his eggs, sipping his coffee

at the exact moment I knew he would be there,

10:18 am, Friday April 23.

and I gave him all I got.

I didn’t want to screw the world.

I wanted the world to love me,

one man at a time.


* im·prob·a·ble
m·prob·a·ble Adjective   /imˈpräbəbəl/


About Jennifer Pastiloff

"Thank you Jennifer, for shining your light on mine." ~ Christy Turlington. / Jennifer Pastiloff, as featured on Good Morning America, is a lover of life, laughter, poetry, yoga, Modern Family (and a really good glass of wine.) She is the creator of Manifestation Yoga®, which is all about causing serious breakthroughs in your life without being too serious. Her rule of “If you fall you must laugh ” is strictly enforced in her yoga classes. / Jennifer teaches this inspirational style of yoga all over but her home base is in Los Angeles. She travels the world teaching workshops and leading retreats. When Jen's nephew Blaise was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder called Prader Wille Syndrome (PWS), it prompted her to start GAME Yoga. Gifts And Miracles Everyday: Free Yoga for Kids w/ Special Needs. / Jen is in the process of writing a book about how to manifest your life, one laugh at a time. She is partially deaf and wears hearing aids. / Jennifer spent 13 years working in the same restaurant and believes that everyone should have a job in the service industry at least once in their life. (It’s good for the soul, she says.) / Learn more about her at Her blog is Manifestation Yoga. Follow her on Facebook and on Twitter.


6 Responses to “Romance: A Fairy Tale.”

  1. I remember this one well. Love it.

  2. Beautiful poem. Look forward to more.

    Posting to Elephant Yoga on Facebook and Twitter (just because it's so good.)

    Bob W.
    Yoga Editor

  3. jen says:

    Thank you Bob. Feeling Inspired xoxo

  4. Becky DeMarie says:

    Great writing, Jen. I love the ending the best. So true. "All you need is love".

  5. zuko says:

    Extremely lovely, sensual and authentically delivered… My heart is buzzing, and my hips a swirling.. much gratitude for sharing one of your gifts. Aloha!

  6. Lakshmi says:

    I love the line "things either last too long or not long enough."
    Couldn't agree more.
    Have always felt that is true deep down inside.
    Thanks for writing it.