Lovelorn Poet in Louisville, KY: Whisper Into Nothing

Missed Connections in Louisville

Whisper Into Nothing (The Bridge)

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Whisper Into Nothing (The Bridge)

The blizzard came,
after you were gone,
pounding on my back
with his frigid fists
and you took pleasure in this
as I made the long walk
from downtown,
turn-of-the-century
brick-faced buildings
grinning at me
through the shroud of snow,
my foot prints marring
the perfection of their walk,
reminding me of the place
uptown where you live,
where servants spy me
as rapist or burglar
instead of your lover,
I wanted you to stay
and catch the snow flakes
with me,
exposing our tongues
to the raw lash of winter,
where my wallet
meaning nothing in
the melting snow,
I wanted you to walk
this way with me,
studying the snow-laden limbs,
the ice-encrusted weeds,
in search of warmth.
To have the heat of your hand
But now, I stumbled
even fallen with my face in the snow
along this frozen waste,
my footsteps filling in
behind me,
as if I’d never passed
this way.
Why did I wait for you?
I need to find my way back home

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

The path back home is always there, even when our tracks are covered and softened by time. But the return trip will find us a different person than on the initial journey. Is it stormy weather that precipitates the flight or the lack of a confirmed destination? The reason for turning around determines who we will be once we get there.

Lovelorn Poet in Louisville, KY: Bagging Up My Heart

Missed Connections in Louisville

Bagging Up My Heart

Priestess of Delphi (1891) by John Collier

Priestess of Delphi (1891) by John Collier

A chilly December morning as I shuffle through the supermarket line.

The lad in front of me buys a bag of vegan cain-sugar and a carton of American Spirits.
“Fuck Christmas”is silk screened across his shirt.
His corduroys brush away and then I see your hands.

They take hold of my breaded, chicken-less nuggets
and tuck them into my hemp-fiber grocery tote.
Thin, strong, precise–hands of an artist.
Five digits play through my produce, while the others dance a fast and steamy tango across the computer screen.

Each sinew is wrapped in a beautiful lacework that carries hot blood up the smooth, tan curve of your arm. It winds through the sculpted hollows of a shoulder that spent a former life slipping from Coco Chanel dresses.

My gaze dares to trace a way up, along the graceful line of your neck, all the way to your lips.
Impossibly wide and full across your face, they carve out just the ridge-line of a smile that has roots somewhere deep inside, where joys and secrets are kept. Finally they meet again, just below the nose and fall into a valley so deep and soft, that I’ll never climb my way out.

Until I see your eyes.

I’ve watched glittering white icebergs crash into a frozen sea.
I’ve seen a harvest moon rise through the Milky Way on a cloudless night.
But memory is blinded by the wild opalescence of your untamed eyes.
My blood pounds in frenetic rhythm with the “beeps” and “boops” of the busy register.

You make me change & the copper pennies swap electrons between our skin.
My heart splatters onto your scanner
and you tuck it tenderly in place beside my Quack & Bites
and thank me with a ravishing smile.

I shuffle out into the cold and envy the next gentleman as he steps into your line.

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

We often spend our ordinary lives as if on a conveyor belt, from project to task, chore to commitment, never really cognizant of the swirling, mystical forces until the muse brings us to a screeching halt. We are bitten, smitten, and jump from our auto pilot existence into a fantastical world of inspired creativity. Look deeply into the vapors and allow yourself to be transported to the extraordinary – your life may never be the same again.

 

Lovelorn Poet in Lexington, KY: Haiku

Haiku
Missed Connections From Lexington

skin

skin

pricking of the skin
matters little the point used
bleed another way

 

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and ugly haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one?  Email the link to Lovelorn Poets and those perfectly counted syllables can be preserved for all eternity. Don’t be shy! Juicy new haiku bits are always wanted.

Lovelorn Poet in Lexingto, KY: Haiku

Haiku
Missed Connections from Lexington

write

write

Often you write posts
Without clues or initials
And I wonder why …………………………………………….?

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and ugly haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one?  Email the link to Lovelorn Poets and those perfectly counted syllables can be preserved for all eternity. Don’t be shy! Juicy new haiku bits are always wanted.

Missed Connections in Lexington, KY: I Found Your Shoe, Are You My Cinderella?

Missed Connections in Lexington, KY

Cinderella's Shoes (she found the other one at last)... by Dionne Hartnett

 

I Found Your Shoe, Are You My Cinderella?
Missed Connections in Lexington

I found your shoe by Lynaugh’s.
I searched for you to no avail.
Are You My Cinderella?
If this shoe belongs to you please let me know.

One Year Ago: Missed Connections in Seattle, WA: The Hammock

Lovelorn Poets her two cents iconHer Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
The Cinderella story is a prime example of the thought that someone, somewhere, is our perfect match. That after traveling from one set of feet to the next to the next to the next, that finally there will be a fit that makes time stand still and our hearts swoon. Is finding true love as simple (or as complex) as finding the perfect pair of shoes? It’s Friday, so there’s no better time than now to get out there and start figuring it all out.