Denim Pants

I know it's not about sex. I know I haven't spoken about sex lately. I'm waiting for the inspiration to come. No pun intended. Actually, all puns intended. Anyway, while you wait, here's something I wrote a little while ago...
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I couldn’t help staring. From the moment he walked in the door, my eyes were on him. His long hair, pulled back into a scruffy pony tail, his loose T-shirt, shouting the name of a band. His denim pants came to just below his knee. Perfect.
I watched him as he moved around the store, my eyes following him. He looked at me and I dropped my gaze. I hoped he would come over. I hoped and hoped with all my heart.
The boy picked up something, read it and then plonked it back down.
‘Come over here!’ I was silently screaming. I wanted him to look at me again, and smile. I wanted him to say something to me. Anything.
I jiggled my foot as he looked somewhere else.
‘Come over here, by the cash register. Please!’
The boy looked up and shook his head.
“No, I don’t think I’ll buy anything today.” He said, and walked slowly out of the shop. I was crushed.
I stretched my wings and cried silently. I would have to stay, locked up in this cage once again. A poor, friendless parakeet I would remain.