the one who doesn't know my name

You know my drink, but you don't know my name. I wonder if you'll ever ask it and what difference it would make if you did. Sometimes we make small talk, sometimes you roll your eyes at your manager and look to see if I noticed. I did. Sometimes you see me walk in and you give me the Pittsburgh Nod, ready with my drink before I even get to the counter. I wonder if you wanted to work here as long as you have, four years you told me a few weeks ago. Four years is a lot of years to make drinks for people. Four years is a lot of girls who have had crushes on you. Four years is a lot of years for people to not know your name. I know it though. You wrote it on the bottom of my cup today, with your phone number. I just want you to know that even though I probably won't call you, I still want you to know my name.