“Seeing artistically does not happen automatically. We must constantly develop our powers of observation.” - Eugene Delacroix
When I checked my rear view mirror and saw you eating that huge burrito - I almost slammed on my brakes so we'd be forced to meet and discuss insurance policies. Maybe next time.
I didn't really care much until the sunshine hit that little patch of freckles on your nose. Get a haircut and come find me. I'll be out past my bedtime. And yours.
Winter flannel babe. You were drinking water. So was I. I only saw you from the back. That was enough.
You were shoe-less and sleeping on a bench. I was wearing shoes and watching you sleep. We seem like the perfect pair.
I was sleepwalking and ended up in the kitchen. You were rearranging the furniture in my living room. At first I was offended by your Guy Fieri haircut- but now it's all I think about. You've been haunting my dreams ever since. Now come haunt my bedroom.
I'm literally standing right behind you. You smell so good. Like lilacs and gasoline.
I am someone's daughter dancing to Wutang. You are someone's father with a brand new Bucees sticker.
On your cell phone while pumping gas? Such a daredevil. I doubt it was a coincidence that track 16 filled the air we both just happened to be breathing as I slow turned past your pump. Ditch the scion and 'I’ll make love to you. Like you want me to.'
I'm willing to look past your camoflauge cargo shorts to hold your thumb less hand.
You may not know this yet- but you are a witch. And you put a spell on me. Let's wear all black together.
I watched you fill your Togo box. Really dig your choices. Your hair is the cutest shade of corn tortilla. Wanna taco 'bout it?
I saw your shadow before I saw your face. But it wasn’t long before none of that even mattered. I’ve never seen someone with such thin arms push so many shopping carts at once. What a treat. Before disappearing through some automatic doors you paused as if you wanted to say something. I guess you thought I was someone else. I'm not. But I could be.
I had no idea street gangs quit for lunch. I've lowered my fire escape. Just call me Maria.
Even though you were walking across the street, i thought you were a tree; in your beige pants and green sweatshirt. I was in that one car blasting Barry Manilow Christmas music in July. I hope you’re into that, and you can let me love you as a man as much as I did when you were just a tree.
I really dig the way you early morning pop lock and drop it. Pull a comb through your hair and maybe we can chill curbside sometime. Think about it before you break(dance) my heart.
I was at a red light when I was nearly blinded by the shine of your jet black waves. I imagined running my fingers through them while tossing around ideas for your next sign. Lose the dog and I could be all the change you need.
We were alone in a 9am elevator. You were dressed like a fly fisherman and your skin looked like Queen Anne’s lace dried and pressed between wax paper. The veins in your hand were shaped like a Taurus so we are a cosmic match. Throw me a line. Third floor garage. Anytime after 5.
I was losing to myself at a game of darts when we exchanged smiles. Your teeth sparkled like aluminum foil in a microwave and cast light on a stretch of jawline scruff that looked exactly like the Acropolis. Look for me not winning a round of giant Jenga. Greece is on my bucket list.
I was on my 4th vodka soda when you called me over to tell me I looked like an angel. I caught my reflection glowing in your snow capped quiff so I knew you were at least an honest man. I left you for a slice of pizza and regret not complimenting the way your skin stretched across your face and neck as though you were wearing a mask of yourself. Ill stick around next time and we can put some miles on your AARP card.
I thought i was alone during my pre-work morning yawn. I was wrong. You were layered like a modern antarctic man. Stray wool danced in the weaves of your second hat above the piles of cigarette ash sitting in the cuff of your first hat. You must have extra itchy temples. Look for me if the temperature stays low. I’ll be covering my next yawn with 2 sets of gloves.
I have never seen your face. And I certainly do not care for the way your mustache wraps around your hood and tickles the back of your head. But I like the way you play the steering wheel like a keyboard. And I like the bruise on your left pinky nail - small and blue and shaped like a whale. Our cars only align if I’m running late for work. (I’m always late). I wonder - are you late too? (I bet you are). Look for me tomorrow strumming my seatbelt guitar. It’s time to get the band back together.
When your whip comes fully loaded with a 6 CD changer- there’s rarely any need for the radio. So what are the odds that today I tapped the FM button just as I hit the longest red light in town? And what are the odds that you were there...handsomely hunched under a daytime umbrella while ‘My Heart Will Go On’ romanced the air between us? Our eyes locked as I out sang Celine, and for a brief moment it felt like you somehow crawled into my mouth to be closer to the lyrics. I could feel you in there- pressed between my teeth and bottom lip. You tasted like mint chill Skoal and sunblock. A green light may have forced us to part ways, but I do believe ‘Love can touch us one time And last for a lifetime.’
If I were an architect- I would use your jawline as a ruler. Find me on live journal. Those blueprints could use a few less windows.
I caught you in my rear-view mirror- annoyed (at first) at the way you weaved in and out of traffic like you were dodging driving test cones. From a distance you looked like a boy; sitting small on your two-tone pocket rocket. But as you snaked your way closer to me- It became clear that you had driven far beyond the gates of puberty. You reached my window just as a drop of sweat squeezed out from under your helmet, sashayed across a wrinkle, and disappeared into your handsomely salted facial hair. I must have been blinded by the sunlight bouncing off your perfectly tight, white T-shirt- because before I could truly admire your renaissance arms... you were gone. Look for me at the next red light if you ever want to upgrade to a bicycle built for two.
There's something about the way your sweat dripped down your arm muscles onto your shirtless beer gut that made me feel at ease at such a busy intersection. Take care of that snaggle-tooth and maybe your next drink will be on me.
At first I didn't think much. I liked your face- pieced together like a 19th century villain. Furrowed brow. Sharp chin. Sharper mustache. No top hat or cane, but sinister nonetheless. Still… It wasn’t enough. Then, on the water, you laughed. I couldn't hear it but I saw it. You we're sitting down, hands folded over your swim trunks. Your shoulders lurched forward but somehow didn't disrupt your posture. Your eyes- normally thin like arcade game coin slots- opened so wide I could see in them the seagulls flying overhead. But what really stole my breath was your mouth. Your lips shifted from a dull barbie doll peach to this… Bright candy apple red. As if all your blood got excited and met in one spot to hug. Slowly they parted ways giving attention to your teeth- spit-glistened, clenched, and guarding your tongue from the salty air. I could see your neck vibrating -your adams apple rising and falling like a broken elevator. Proof that your laugh lives anchored to the very back of your throat. When the joke wears off and you tire of the sun- look for me. I'll be waiting in the shadows, wanting to get caught.
I'm not entirely sure what to make of you. From a distance, the only thing separating you from a refrigerator box is a tie. Up close your lips are like 2 bounce house pillars after a spring drizzle- slightly deflated and just wet enough to ruin the day. But your skin looks like a pre-wrinkled brown wax sandwich bag from a mom-made lunch, and something about that makes me feel at ease. So grab some shark bites and dust off those pleat front chinos because you just might be the peanut butter to my jelly.
I was immediately drawn to you. Tall. Pale. I like the way your waist hunch forms a small dip just above your belt and curves your torso like the underside of a toenail clipping. I imagine your skin feels wet and dry at the same time-similar to old fly paper that's been hanging in a damp basement. If you want to get close enough for me to stick-make sure to smile extra big. No matter how often I've seen your teeth, I still can't tell if you're wearing braces.
I heard your voice before i saw your face. My ears were barely impressed, so i didn't turn around. But of course, curiosity got the best of me. So i went to you. Your skin, dusky like a winter fog. Your eyes- two green marbles lost at the bottom of a double ditch. Your body- stretched to the ceiling like a pair of stilts dressed as a man. But none of that could compare to where your lower leg meets the ankle. So loud under your high-water slacks. So bare. Like a stripped tree after a lightening strike. It's all I can see now when you're here. They glow. Like the sun is always somehow touching them, even in a windowless room. I'm still not sure who you are. I don't even know your name- even though we’ve now met twice. But you know where to find me, and i know how to find you- a human beacon on my favorite shore.