I saw who I wanted to marry today

I saw who I wanted to marry today
He was sitting on a tall sturdy, red metal stool.
Those kind that are at little, neighborly diners and cafés

He stared down at a piece of paper intently
Concentrating hard on his thoughts
His poetry
At least, that's what I assumed based on the lines that were written neatly in stanzas down half a page
And every so often when words did not come to him
He'd move his hand to his chin and rub his just-shaven skin
His eyes wandered across his table to a rough old woman working behind the coffee maker
She had a wrinkled skirt that matched her skin
I wonder if he noted this
Or incorporated it into his writing…
He'd only look briefly at her silky white hair and finally move his lips slowly in the smallest circular motion.
His curled pointer finger still supporting his relaxed jaw

As his lips rotated, the dimple on his left cheek became obvious, obscure, obvious, obscure
And then his gaze would fall once again upon the pad of paper below him. Inspiration struck every so often, lines seeping from his blue, inky pen.
It wasn't just his writing,
Or the way he held his pen,
Or the way he slumped just slightly in the backless seat
Or even the slowly and circular ways about him that intrigued me
It was simply the whole scene at once
The kind of scene when only the center is focused
Because, honestly, my surroundings stayed a blur
I could only focus on his messy dark hair
Short and to the point, fixed with strokes of gel
It was just the right amount
I think I'm in love
And he never even noticed me