Monday, January 25, 2010

Undercover Internet Lover

It was only a matter of time before I resorted to online dating. I think I'm finally at an age where it might be semi-socially acceptable.
I haven't had any luck yet, or really any dates that end in anything more than a handshake. (Seriously guys, a handshake?) That aside, I've started a collection of poems I've received from creepy old guys on the internet. This is the first installment in that collection.

There is No Way We'd Get Along (his title, not mine)

After all, your young, I'm old (like late 40s), your a navigator, I'm a driver, you can find chocolate butterflies, I can only find flies, you've lived in big cities, I live in small towns, you bake pies, I eat pies, you like the Band, I am a huge Basement Tapes freak, David Byrne makes you happy, David Byrne flips me over backwards, your socks are organized (huh?), mine are crawling all over my drawer. I guess there is nothing else to do but write you this poem and let it fly.


blue is the color
of the sky today
clear, cold,
the sun on the way

winter appears
snow on the ground
spinning through flakes
hanging around

our eyes lock
on each others soul
our fingers press
together and won't let go

our lips shine
they touch and then
the spark emerges
our feelings spin

out of control
out of the way
pressing ourselves
we know what to say

talkings no good
whispers in the ears
sweetness abounds
only we can hear

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