You approached me.
Or I approached you.
As these things often go:
there was at least a moderate level
of drunkenness involved.
Me: the guy
your friends warily eyed
as we laughed and drank shots of well-whiskey.
You: every little girl
who has ever seen the glimmer of lust in my eye
or been bestowed with the silver-plated riddle that is
my conversation. You walked away with a kick in
your step and cast a knowing smile over your shoulder.
Perhaps I was too inebriated to say this then
but now I am not
and I’d like to utilize this medium
to indicate your mistake:
Do not believe
that my expression of rudimentary affection
is some sort of attempt to tame you,
nor is it an indication that
am somehow tamed by you
through this so-called expression of affection.
My communicating that you
engender pleasant thoughts in my mind,
is just that,
and not an indication of connection nor want of connection.
I believe you’ve made a fundamentally egotistical mistake:
Do you attribute
a sense of desire and love (and weakness)
to the sun for it’s role in your survival?
Do not mistake
an object’s most base nature
attraction for yourself
you find that object’s arbitrary nature
to be favorable.
Neither should you
mistake the collision of your world
as an attempt to merge.
Perception of a feeling is not proof of its existence.
Beauty and its ability to foster love
is truly the most enduring myth.
(Editor’s Note: according to the author, this “poem” (which, let the record show, I believe to be clandestinely misogynistic; a claim he refutes) is a rough outline of a dream, which like most dreams had immediately begun fading upon consciousness, but having retained a few key elements despite the mischief of his memory, he was able to recognize the so-called “medium” of said dream as being somehow linked to that popular website – of barter and resale and human miscellanea – known as Craigslist; specifically the section titled: Missed Connections. And so he “uncharacteristically” and “whimsically” (the author’s words) decided to scan the recent pages of Missed Connections for a uh connection. Again, according to the author, he found this posting buried deep in the prior days’ posts and knew it for his dream when he saw it. He was wary of posting it as his own work for the possible guilt of plagiarism it may inspire, but obviously he ultimately decided to publish the pre-mentioned “poem” after I asked him this: if a man cannot lay claim to his own dreams, what can he be said to truly possess? Let it be known, that I am of the opinion the question is unanswerable. A riddle at best. Apparently he took this rhetoric as an absolving of any wrongdoing on his part. And so it is. -G.M.-)
(Drugs and Culture)