Dating is a funny thing…

Dating is a funny thing,
But wonderful when it goes right:
Together through Parisian streets,
Into oncoming night —

It takes connection. True, it does,
Which is as sweet as it is rare,
Then it won’t matter where you are,
Just really being

There

Summer Night On The River

subtle brush of random breeze,

cicadas and choir frogs:

nowhere heard a traffic hum,

stars peek through the clouds

 

at the two in their unease,

sedative for kindling logs;

oh the passions of the numb,

torn from out

of shrouds

The Laughter of the Damaged

She tells me that
She loves spin class,
Corona,
All the Marleys
(Bob, Ziggy, Jacob)
As we walk down by
The riverside
Towards twilight.

She is young,
But not so carefree
As she’d have me believe:
The setting sun dances
Off her red hair,
And she laughs often
In the manner of someone
Who used to do it a lot
But has kind of forgotten how.

And it feels like
An audition,
Or maybe an interview,
Instead of a date.
I ask her if she has siblings,
And it turns out she has four,
All sisters.

After a minute,
She turns to me
With a smile and says

Thank you for dinner.
I haven’t been on a date
In a long time.
But you’re nice,
And it’s pretty out here.

She’s lovely, really,
And my heart goes out to her
For something she’s not saying.
So I say

“I’ve enjoyed this.
I really like you.
It feels, though, like
You are sad for some reason.”

It’s that obvious, huh?

“Kinda”

I don’t want you to think
I don’t appreciate —

“I won’t think that.
I want to know what’s really going on”

And then
A song of a young woman’s love,
Like a melody
Transforming the listener
Even if it left the actual beloved unmoved.

“So how long has it been since?”

Nine months.
People keep telling me to date,
And you asked, so
I said yes.

It was my turn to chuckle:
“Even my dates
Aren’t really about me.
Well, I did ask.
And what’s real is real.”

I’m sorry

“It’s okay. Seriously.”

We walked along
Talking about a funny movie
We both loved.

The sun went down,
And we talked in the car for a few minutes,
Laughing a little more.

Then, I drove her home

in soul of search mates

 


belonging.

the sad is search and
difficult with all of its
dramatics to turn oneself into a
prize it’s moral

acrobatics we love because
we love to love to need to feel
inside but all that ever was
and is is made of clove and

pride we string along our
platitudes we soon evince our
longing but souls are made of fragile
stuff and yearning for


 

MIssed Connection

A common dating dilemma.

He liked her
And she liked him
But —

She was afraid
Of being used physically
By a man
Who wasn’t really interested in her
Emotionally.
She thought:
That’s just what men do

He was afraid
Of being used emotionally
By a woman
Who wasn’t really interested in him
Physically.
He thought:
That’s just what women do

And they each interpreted the other’s actions
As proving their own theories

Even though they both liked each other
Physically
And
Emotionally

Roni

Roni

When Roni had me pick her up,
I almost lost my mind:
A lonely dude at twenty-three
The restless dating kind

We got dressed up to go to see
The local symphony;
Italian dinner, wine, and then
A drive down by the sea

She touched my face with both her hands
And I’m sure it went scarlet:
If this had been a movie script
She’d be the stunning starlet

And I, the semi-funny schlump
Who somehow gets the girl:
But we weren’t in a movie script
And that was not our world

Instead, we chatted in the dark
Beside the waters glowing;
I’d brush the hair back from her face
So long and brown and flowing

And I don’t know that she could know
Just what that was for me;
For her, some dating throwaway,
For me, a memory

Of moonlight and of Roni
All alone out very late:
As we fogged up the windows,
Just two people, on a date