Her eyes are pearl green, like a treasure
Seen through a filter of ocean froth
And the water, brimming and subsiding,
Knows how pearls are built, not born,
From endless repetitions, much the way
The heart, tidal in its attractions, rests
For a moment, between sets–respiration
Like inspiration, an on-again/off-again thing–
And returns to work. But my eyes, denim
And lapis-flecked, flicker in her direction
Hungrily, hopelessly. Only a fly on the wall
Sees my breath catch as she looks away.
So my coffee date with the OKCupid person went well. She was nice and we made each other laugh. I doubt I will see her again, but I am okay with these things simply being about practice.
Meanwhile, I am four chapters into my new novel. In theory it should answer the eternal question, “Why do fools fall in love?” with the wrong people, over and over again. (Also, probably “Why do birds sing so gay?” although I am pretty sure we already know the answer to that one.)
- Coffee. Every day. On Monday, fireworks like glitter in the sky.
- But tomorrow, a coffee date. With a goil. Oy veh. How exciting!
- I am about ten pages in to my newest novel, about the search for the perfect butch. Wish me luck. Send me ideas. Send me warnings. (You could send me money too, but I have enough good sense to know how unlikely that is.)
- There was something else. Rainbow-colored boas were NOT involved. I think.