I finally sat down and connected the lines I was gathering for a found poem based on Craigslist’s m4w Missed Connections section. I mostly wanted to write it for the first line—the first line is just awesome (and, absurdly, I wish it had been posted for me). Also, the OkCupid email on the bottom of this post has nothing to do with this, but I just found it hilarious when it arrived in my inbox the morning of my birthday and feel the need to share my apparent spinsterhood with the world. The internet is so weird.
“You Opened It; Good Luck”
Holy shit, you are so punk rock—I want to pull your hair.
Pretty, pretty girl at my school. Short hair. Let’s become more than watchers.
You said we’ll sit on opposite sides of the room to be safe, but I don’t want to be safe…do you?
“With all your power. With all your power. With all your power. What would you do? I know what I would do.”
Kind of glad I took the train down to Canal instead. We passed each other on the platform.
You were talking to your friend about blow up dolls. I offered to let you borrow mine.
You were the bespectacled, umbrella-less girl.
You walk fast. I walk faster because I have longer legs.
The best I can do right now seems to be living my life as I know how. Which is very, very slowly.
I was wearing a skinny tie.
I was standing against the door reading historical fiction and dreaming of bonfires in Ireland. I was thinking we could go to the flea market.
Come back into my life and I’ll put a ring on your finger, but please, if you don’t feel that way, leave me alone.
On the dim-lit dance floor.
I sat across from you this morning on the train and I dig your citrus style. I might have a big train crush on you.
You cut my hair while I was asleep—
offered to fix it right there on the spot and took out a dull utility knife and started to get to work.
We both eavesdropped on one another and we both hated the same hat.
I was watching you, thinking how I should go say something.
It’s hard for a guy to do that. At least it’s hard for someone like me to do that.
In fact, I can’t ever remember doing it. Not once in my life did I go over to a perfect stranger in a park and try to introduce myself. You have to understand, that’s really going out on a limb.
I talked with you about building igloos in Prospect Park—
I should have gotten your number as it will be difficult to build it solo.
I spied you on the patio. I have been thinking about you ever since;
with my bottle from the duty free, I drank it all across the sea. You know who you are.
Either way, I hope things are going well for you,
and that life is rad, and that your hair is awesome.
I’m looking for that one sentence that has defined my entire life.
I saw you at the Guggenheim. Climbing up the ramp, you noticed that some of the galleries were closed. You stopped, stood there for a breath, then looked back over your shoulder at nothing.