tim butler
the first week of school, i helped out at the table for this environmental club, getting people to sign up to help save the world. i was late, and as i jogged from my dorm room to Ring Road (where all the clubs and fraternities had set up their booths), i passed a boy with reddish curly hair, sporting a black Elvira t-shirt and Converse All-Stars. naturally, i slowed down a little to check you out, but i remembered where i was supposed to be and picked up my pace again, leaving you behind.

i was busy jumping around in the middle of the path, suckering people into writing their information on little bright-green cards using my irresistable charm (riiight). suddenly, i saw you coming our way. i timidly drew back behind the table, and to my surprise, you stopped to read our sign. when you filled in the information card, i peered over to see what your name was. "Tim Butler."

it's been months since then, and i still haven't had the guts to talk to you. all i know is your name, which dorm you live in, and that you might be a studio art major. every time i see you at the dining hall, i contemplate sitting down next to you, and i always chicken out.

but some day, maybe -- just maybe -- i'll put my tray down next to yours, and we can save the world together.


Friday, March 02, 2001


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