April 22, 2011

For the fourth time this month
I promise myself I’ll go to the MET,
because there is a girl there, I’ve heard of.
I dreamed
of her, looking at paintings and sculptures,
and thinking better thoughts than me;
she is beating me at my own game.

And I fall in love with her sooner than first sight.
Feeling her presence I am infatuated.
Her aura
and energy and
pheromones and clothing
and perfume and
hair and lips
draw me in (;let’s make a relationship?)
but still her eyes say ‘no’ in a manner
too firm to be mistaken.
Alas, the eyes have it.



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