OK Reader, I'm going to tell you a tale … with great trepidation. You see, this tale, well, it's kind of like telling someone that you've seen a UFO. They want to believe you, but … it's never really been proven scientifically. Not to mention the fact that most folks who believe in such things are often the tin-hat wearing types, written off as … lets be nice and call them “odd”. And, of course, the more you swear to it, the crazier you appear. It's an epic tale, spanning 30 years of my crazy life.

  But, It's a story I want to tell, because it happened to me. I can barely understand it myself, let alone explain it. So … I'm just going to launch into it and you take it any way you wish.

*  *  
Where Can You Be?

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

I'll search with gazes and I'll search with cars,
I'll search the cities and I'll search the stars, well …
I'm gonna find you, oh, wherever you are,
I'm gonna find you baby …  near or far, but …

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

I thought I'd found ya, but she wasn't you,
that girl she left alone and blue, well …
I know that's something that you'd never do,
your love has always been strong and true, but …

Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

If you must settle for some other man
and deviate from our immortal plan, well …
I hope you realize I will understand
and I'll try and do the best that I can, but …

Where will I be?
Where will I be, my love?
Hoping the next life sees …
our destiny!


Where can you be?
Where can you be, my love?
Oh, can't you see?
You're not with me!

~Wednesday, April 1st, 1987
10:30 P.M.


  I was singing in a band back in those days and, as it happened, this was the last song I'd ever write for it. Just after this, as it does, it all came crashing down and the band was finished. But in those last days, they pondered this song, with great puzzlement. You see, it was unlike anything I'd brought them before. It wasn't rock … It wasn't a ballad … it wasn't even structured like a “normal” 80's rock song.
  
  No bridge, no solo, no loud grinding guitars, etc. It even had bits where I hummed, yes hummed, the melody, like a lullaby. As they read the lyrics and I described how it went, they all looked at me like I had three heads and asked where this had come from. It was nothing like anything I'd written before. I could only tell them when and where I'd written it, but had no explanation of what inspired it. It had just came to me, so I wrote it down. They didn't know what to make of it, or even what to do with it.

  One of them said it sounded like a late 70's or early 80's adult contemporary song or even in the vein of The Eagles. Another asked if it was about reincarnation … And I honestly, until that moment, hadn't thought of it that way, I didn't think like that at 24 … but then, one of them said it was “Haunting” …

  “Haunting”?

  “Wow”, I thought, I'd never had anything I'd written described as that before. When I asked him what he meant by that, he told me that it was haunting to think that this poor guy is desperately seeking a girl, that may or may not even know that he exists … in a world with billions of people in it. To top that off, he fears that she may off and marry someone else if he doesn't find her in time.

  This, along with the suggestion of it being about reincarnation made me rethink and rewrite the song. Well, a few lines in the last verse and chorus anyways. It actually made the song flow better and seem more complete. In a way, it actually made the song make more sense … to me and them. Sadly, we never did anything with it. There wouldn't be time. Ha … Time … how ironic. Over 10 years later, came this …


For Someone I've Never Met

Please save a place for me,
deep inside your heart.
Always know that I think of you,
as we both practice our arts.

Our worlds are full of temptations,
so very hard to resist …
and the good Lord knows
we're both far from,
sixteen and never been kissed.

Wealthy men with jaws divine …
Temptresses with looks so fine …
Paths that lead our hearts away …
Paths that surely lead astray …

They'll lead us there every time.
They'll leave us there … so  unkind.
Our hearts must shine,
night and day.
Through any darkness … they'll light our way.

If you never touch my face …
If I never look into your eyes …
We'll always have the comfort of sharing
the same
big, blue sky.

If I never smell your hair …
If you never kiss my lips …
Always know the search for your smile
has launched a thousand ships.

So, I hope you save a place for me
in your heart so sweet and kind.
Please, save a place for me …
Heaven knows you've one in mine.

~Thursday, September 9th, 1999
9 A.M.


“For Someone I've Never Met ” poured out of me in the midst of another breakup from the second, and last, girl that I wanted to marry. That emotion, never found me again. I looked at it on my computer screen and smiled, seeing “Where Can You Be”, in my mind, on my tattered old note pad that I called my “Song Book”. The memory of me writing it while sitting in my Z-28, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico as a beautiful heat lighting storm sent bolts across the sky, came flooding back; as did the debate of reincarnation I'd had with my pals in the rehearsal room all those years before. Here I was, again, writing about “someone” that I sensed, for lack of a better term, was out there … somewhere.

  Well Reader, do you believe in reincarnation? I was never really certain, but, as you can see, I had twice written pieces to someone I wasn't completely sure existed. I had always “sensed” someone out there beginning with the period after I wrote “Where Can You Be?” and thereafter. So, there they were, each written after losing someone I was deeply in love with. Each came out of nowhere, as they usually do. By the time I was in my 40's, I began to think I was either imagining it all (a side effect of being a hopeless romantic) or that I had just somehow missed this person and our “moment”.

  And then …



Epiphany

There was a place.
There was a time …
There, I stood … still unknowing
and everything seemed fine.

But there in that place …
at that moment in time …
the moment I saw the eyes,
I'd never believed I'd find.

Well, what could I say?
What could I do?
In a world filled with billions …
and there … was a you.

I'd always known you were out there …
even written of something amiss.
I never, ever stopped looking for you …
because my heart always said you exist.

My breezy Fall became harshest Winter.
My crazy life left my health running out.
I'd resigned myself that our moment had passed …
but this moment … it removed all doubt.

Well, what could I say?
Tell me, what could I do?
There we stood, staring … alone … in a city of millions …
yes, there … there was a you.

Oh, that mistress fate, she is just so cruel.
Frustration, a curse to be mine.
   I'd searched for you my entire life …
but now … my clock … knows a limit of time.

You see, I would never venture a love with you,
while knowing I'd have to leave you … hurt and alone.
I could only admire from afar … stoic and aloof …
while turning my heart into stone.

Nothing I could ever say and nothing I could ever do …
But now, at long last … at least I finally knew.

There, you stood … green seas, gazing up … into skies of blue.
My long-awaited revelation … become sorrow-laced realization.
There really is … a you.

~August 12th, 2009  

  Typical of my life-long Charlie Brown syndrome … After being told in 2005 that I had “the lungs of an eighty-year-old man” and that I had “Six to Ten years” to live, I made a conscious decision in that Doctor's parking lot that I could never have another girlfriend and that I must face this alone. I don't see woman as objects. They are glorious creatures that are here to be our partners and friends and to make our lives amazing. I could never, ever knowingly let a woman fall in love with me, all the while knowing I was going to die and leave her. It's not in me to do such a thing, lonely or not.

  Yes, I'm still alive, I'm stubborn like that. But, some days are better than others and my new doctors say that they don't give people “time limits” anymore … because of people like me. I can't afford the lung transplant. So, as Bono so aptly put in one of his songs: “The rich stay healthy, while the sick stay poor”. It is what it is … and like the energizer bunny, I'm still going. Good for me.

  In the moment that I met her, the morning that followed, and the amazing speed of our nexus over the next several months combined with a string of synchronicities (Coincidences? Did I mention that she too, was a poet and writer?) that not only came after I met her on the sidewalk in front of the publisher we shared, but in those pieces I had written before and in several after; I was pretty much convinced I had actually found her. I have NEVER experienced anything like this, or her, in my entire life.

  So, after all this time, here she was … and there wasn't a **** thing that I could do about it. Besides, she was much younger than I and it probably would never have worked anyways. ****, the universe is rotten sometimes, huh? Maybe, if I'm lucky, things will balance out better in the next life. I can only hope. But I'm reminded, worryingly so, of the **** The Alarm song: “Collide”:

“All of these thoughts pounding in my head …
with the words I've wrote, in the letters I've never sent.
The distance in our lives may change …
Times that you can never erase …
But will our worlds collide?
Will our worlds collide, the next time?”



  Only time will tell.



  “Colors”, and a few others, were written about/for her. But, I could never show them to her. I would never endanger my friendship with her. I just wanted to keep her in my life. That, and that alone, was the only motive I'd ever had with her. I looked forward to seeing her marry, hearing her stories of her three kid's adventures; Hubby, all greasy, working on the car in the driveway, rabbits in her garden at night, eating her precious organic veggies or even about her new curtains. Just to know that she was alive, happy and doing well. I found a solace in her voice I could never describe and I was completely content to just have her in my life and watch hers unfold. Only I could end up in this odd position.

  I feared that she might get weird-ed out because I'd never displayed any romantic inklings toward her, so, to suddenly read these might make her feel a bit, lets say: uncomfortable. Actually, I didn't write them with any romantic intentions, per se; I just did what I always do … write what comes out. Still, there's no denying that they come across romantic. Again, so, so Charlie Brown. (long sigh)
  
  It is what it is. I also have to ponder the fact that maybe all those Charlie Brown moments in my life were preparing me for this one big, painful one. That does makes sense … ******' Universe.


Colors

Well when you're Green, I'll be your Brown.
Like the earth that loves the flowers,
I'll will be your solid ground.

And I'll be your Azure, when you are Verdigris.
We'll be thee most beautiful ocean
that eyes have ever seen.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
Mixing all of the colors … I'll make everything alright.

Now when you're Blue, I'll be you're Red.
If something should make you wanna cry,
I will feel your pain instead.

And I'll be your Orange, whenever you are Pink.
We'll be thee most amazing sunset,
that the sky could ever ink.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … and make everything alright.

Should you be Violet, I will be your Beige.
Like a sleepy moonlit desert,
pasteled in dunes and sage.

And when you're Grey, I will be your Rainbow.
We'll be thee most soothing rainstorm
the world has ever known.

And when you're Black, I'll be your White.
I'll mix all of your colors … yes, I'll make everything alright.

With love on my palette, painting a glorious sunrise …
I'll color all your mornings with a smile and brighten up your skies.
If you should find yourself in sorrow from someones hate or lies …
I'll take the stars down from the heavens … and paint them in your eyes.

So whenever you are Black, I will always be your White.
I'll mix all your colors with a promise … everything will be alright.

Yes, I'll mix all of your colors with a promise … Everything's gonna be alright.

~  Winter 2012


  I wrote this after she had rang me up one afternoon lamenting about her life at the moment, troubled that her latest novel hadn't done as well as she'd hoped and now she had to be waitressing to make ends meet. I tried my best to cheer her up and assured her that she was strong enough to handle anything and that she must keep chasing her dreams. I wrote it as a poem, but I can't help but notice it looks like a song, though I've never heard music for it. Those repeated verses look just like choruses to me.

  Earlier in the day, I had been looking at a booklet of paint swatches. I guess, up there on my roof looking at the Manhattan skyline, her sadness and me looking at all those colors melted together somehow and, as happens, out came this piece. Even this, became another synchronicity as she would name her next novel “Show Me All Your Colors”. I remember seeing it in the bookstore and looking straight up … shaking my head at the sky. Was this the universe telling me to show and tell her all this?

  Well, if it was, I stuck with my gut and kept it to myself. My God, if you only knew how many of these synchronicities there were between her and I. It simply boggles my mind. I wanted to call them “coincidences”, but there were just so **** many of them … Each so unique, they just couldn't be called that. I don't want to tell them all here, because like I said, the more you swear to it, the crazier you sound. And I'm sure your questioning my sanity by now, aren't you? (Smirk)


  OK, OK … this one is definitely romantic. I wrote it one night, drunk to the bejeezus. I'd done what we called “The Crosstown Crawl” with my pal Tristan and a gaggle of assorted waitresses we knew. This involved starting at Brass Monkey on the west side highway in the Gansevoort District and ending at my favorite hookah bar, Karma, on the Lower East Side … Drinking in, and often being “asked to leave” (Read: Kicked out of) every bar that took our interest as we walked (Read: staggered) west to east, staying below 14th St.

  On my way home from the city on the J train, I thought about all the phone conversations we'd had while I was on this train crossing the Williamsburg Bridge. Being drunk, I guess, I caught a bout of sadness that I'd never get to tell her any of this or even how I felt about it all. Before I hit my elevator, this piece was swimming in my head. It's about as mushy a piece as I've ever written … if not thee most! Not the norm for me, but this is, after all, a lot to keep pent up inside you. I wouldn't wish this predicament on anyone.


For My Little Red-Haired Girl …


You …

My Love.
My Queen.
This Shining Light in my eyes.

My Laughs.
My Dreams.
My Soft, Contented Sighs.

My *****.
My Lavender.
My Dew Covered Rose.

My Smile.
My Cinnamon.
The Joy in my heart … ever inspiring my prose.

My Best Friend.
My Co-Star.
My Fearless Partner in Crime.

My Breath.
My Cohort.
My Side-kick throughout time.

My Snow-capped Mountain.
The Wind caressing my face.
My Vast Green Field.

The Ivy Covered Wall
that harbors my soul … ever refusing to yield.

In a different time ...

You … would have been my Life.

You … would have been my World.

You … would have been my Everything

and I will always love you for my own special reasons.

It is just a shame … and I'm so, so sorry … that you … must never, ever know.

Maybe next time.


~Charlie Brown



   When I came-to in the morning and read what I had wrote, I had to laugh a bit. It is borderline corny, very beautiful, very telling and very sad … all at once. I shook my head, laughing and told myself :

  “*******, Sam … yer losin' it. Get your **** together, will ya?”

  I guess in my stupor, I was imagining what it would have been like to write something for her. I don't know … There it was and I was stuck with it. I almost deleted it, but, my finger wouldn't press the key. As I told you before … I'd NEVER show this to her. She'd probably never speak to me again.

   As a sadder epilogue, that eventually happened. I still don't know why, but we haven't spoken in years. Maybe she sensed this emotion in me and ran away. Or maybe, just maybe … she thought I'd pushed her away somehow … but for whatever reason, we drifted apart. I guess I'll never know.  As you can see by reading this, that was never my intention. But, like I keep reiterating … It is what it is.

  One day, I called her number to catch up and shoot the breeze. I hadn't spoken to her in a few months as she'd been busy promoting her new novel and I didn't want to pester her. But … it was disconnected … I checked my emails … nothing. I'd never been so confused, she just closed me out. I didn't want to bother her. I was sure she had her reasons and if she wanted to reach out to me again, she would. She had my email and my phone number. But, for now … she was gone … and that was that.

  So, what do you think, Reader? Do I get the Tin hat … or a Badge of courage? Am I bat-**** crazy … or just eccentric? I'll leave it up to you to decide, because as I said, this all happened to me and there isn't a thing I can do about any of it. I just had to get it off of my chest. Thanks for letting me vent.

  Wherever she is … she will always mean the world to me. I can see her green eyes if I close my mine and look for them. Sometimes, on occasion, her face haunts my sleep. Still, I like to picture her, kids playing in a sprinkler behind her, digging in her garden, wearing gloves too big for her hands and a smudge of fresh dirt on her cheek … it makes me smile.


-Sam Webster
Brooklyn, New York
2013

Tanghali na at nais ko sana magsulat,
Ibuhos ang lahat ng aking gustong ipagtapat,
Ngunit wala, walang lumabas ni isang letra o salita,
Nahihirapan na kahit hindi halata.

Isang lapis at papel ang aking hawak,
Ang daming bumubulabog sa aking utak,
Nais ko sanang iparating sayo,
Binighani mo ang puso ko.

Kaso ang hirap, ang hirap hirap isulat ng aking nadarama,
Na parang magiging katawatawa o masyadong madrama,
Hindi ko alam kung paano pero ito ang naisip ko,
Naisip kong paraan para masabi sayo.

Ang pagsulat. Dahil ito ang aking bibig,
Ito ang tanging paraan para mailabas ko ang aking hinanakit o pag-ibig,
Nakakatawa man o ang "corny" pakinggan,
Pero kahit ganoon pa man, ipagpapatuloy ko sa paraan na makakagaan.

Makakagaan sa akin at sa mga taong makakabasa,
Na hindi ito sinulat ng basta basta,
Isang blankong papel at isang ordinaryong katulad ko,
Isinusulat ang lahat ng mensahe sa paraan na alam ko.

Gagabihin nanaman kaka-isip,
At bibisita nanaman  ang mga talang gabi gabing sumisilip,
Nakakatuwa dahil sila ang laging kausap,
Habang natutulog ang mga ulap.

Isang blankong papel ang aking hawak,
Walang kawala sa magulo kong utak

Don't be angry; Get snappy
Do what makes you happy
For you know that things
Are hard to change;
And life is full of krappy
So- smile when you feel slappy
or sing when you feel trappy
Because you know deep down inside
You can never keep people happy!!!!

Do yu ever smoke¿
Because your smoking hot.
Hope you like my corny ****
cause I like you a lot

I like your smile, I like your voice
I like the thought of us
Don't matter friends or lovers
i just can't get enough

Pretty girl, gone head
let your demons go
How bout my demons take your demons
to a demon show

We'll let loose, be free,
tell me what's on your mind
Let your guard down for a minute,
Your thoughts are too confined

You should know I'll never judge,
I sin too much myself
But I prefer to tell you my flaws
versus somebody else

I rather we not speak at all
I get tongue tied in your eyes
Those are windows to the soul
I'd love to look inside

Isang mensahe na ipinapahatid ni "Ariii Potter" sa kanyang alaga na si "Hedwig" the Snowy Owl.


Sa naghihimultong pagmamahal ko sayo.

Mahal.. oo, mahal nga ang tawag ko sayo
Nagbunga kasi ang pagkagusto ko sayo,
Nagbunga ng isang pagmaMahal

Yung feeling na "gusto kita"
Naging "mahal na kita" real quick

Inakala ko talaga sa diagon alley ka lang gumagala
Eh bat ka na sorted dito sa puso ko

Bakit nga ba..

Patawad sa mga katagang sinabi ko, ay mali. hindi ko lang pala sinabi.
Ipinagsigawan ko pa. Ang corny no?

Pero...

Pagbigyan mo sana ako na ihatid ang mga salitang gustong ipabatid ng puso ko

Idadaan ko lang muna sa isang tula.
--
Umpisa.
Sa kung paano mo ako nginitian
At tinanong kung "potterhead kaba?"

Hindi ko alam kung ginamitan mo ako ng "petrificus totalus"
Dahil sa tuwing tinatawag mo akong ng"Ariii" na fre-freeze ang aking hypothalamus

Na halos masabog-sabog na tong pagmamahal na ihahantulad ko sa isang bulkan
Hindi ko man lang namalayan na umabot ito ng isang buwan

Pati na ang nakatagong pag-ibig dito sa aking damdamin
Ay sadyang naging malalim

Na kahit gumamit man ako ng salitang "alohomora"
Para mabuksan ang pintuan ng puso **** nakasara

Kahit maging seeker man ako sa quidditch
At ikaw ang magiging "snitch"
Hindi parin kita maka-catch
Sapagkat ang tayong dalawa ay imposibleng maging match

O makipaglaban man ako sa Wizard's Chess
Para makamtan ang iyong sorcerer's heart
Ay hindi parin sapat
Alam mo kung bakit?
Dahil hindi ako karapat-dapat
At ang karapat-dapat
Ay ang ika'y pakawalan
Dahil alam ko naman sa kahuli-hulihan
Ako parin ang masasaktan

Kaya salamat,
Salamat sa pansamantalang kilig
Sa tuwing ika'y nakatitig.

Many of you don’t know this,
but I wear my sunglasses at night when I write,
and I know I am a poet,
and I’m supposed to be both understood and misunderstood at the same time,

but I can tell you exactly why I wear my sunglasses when I write,

without any misinterpretations whatsoever,
I wear my sunglasses when I write to block the EMFs,
that emit from the the screen on my electronic device,
and make their way to try and make a way into my eyes,

it’s as if every electronic device is alive,
and they want to take every thing from us including our vibe,
and I’m not sure for sure if this is true so just to be safe I protect my eyes,
by wearing my sunglasses at night when I write,

I want to stay pure,
pure enough at least for you,
because everything I write and do,
of course I do it for you,

as cliche as that might sound,
please know that every word of it is true,
and I’m trying not to rhyme to much so these words don’t sound corny,
but I’m a poet I can’t help it I rhyme without even trying *** else am I supposed to do,

and as far as cliches I’ve got another one coming your way hey, “I Love You.”

I love you,
and I’m trying to stay as pure as I can,
so that I can be clear when I see you,
if we ever have the pleasure of seeing each other again,

as lovers or friends,

either way I am here,

and I’m open,
completely,
devoted,
and cleanly,
unfolded,
and ready,
high voltage,
but steady,
I told ya,
I’m ready,
I noticed,
already,
that you noticed,
me so deeply,
that I broke open easy,
as our emotions,
became confetti,
I told you I told you,
I’ve already been ready already,
and we’re in a storm,
and we’re lost at sea,
but we’re almost to shore,
so please just hold steady,

steady,
steady,
breathe,
steady,

steady hand writes the words,
before fingers become spaghetti and I can write no more,

because honestly I feel like I’m losing all control,
and honestly experiencing strange things then staring at screens doesn’t help,

help,

this is a cry for help,
I’m not scared to admit I’m scared,
I actually have only one fear,
I’m only scared of one thing and nothing else,

being alone.

I am alone.

You are alone.

But we can be alone together.

I told you before I’m totally open,
I told you before I’ve already been ready already,
and I’m trying to stay as pure as possible as I wait for you,
and that’s why I wear these sunglasses so that the EMFs don’t extra affect me,

many,

of you don’t know this,
but I wear my sunglasses at night when I write,
and I know I am a poet,
and I’m supposed to be both understood and misunderstood at the same time,

but I can tell you exactly why I wear my sunglasses when I write,
without any misinterpretations whatsoever,
I wear my sunglasses when I write to block the EMFs,
that emit from the the screen on my electronic device,
and make their way to try and make a way into my eyes,

it’s as if every electronic device is alive,
and they want to take every thing from us including our vibe,
and I’m not sure for sure if this is true so just to be safe I protect my eyes,
by wearing my sunglasses at night when I write,

I want to stay pure,
pure enough at least for you,
because everything I write and do,
of course I do it for you,

as cliche as that might sound,
please know that every word of it is true,
and I’m trying not to rhyme to much so these words don’t sound corny,
but I’m a poet I can’t help it I rhyme without even trying *** else am I supposed to do,

and as far as cliches I’ve got another one coming your way hey, “I Love You.”

I love you,
and I’m trying to stay as pure as I can,
so that I can be clear when I see you,
if we ever have the pleasure of seeing each other again,

as lovers or friends,

either way I am here,

wearing my sunglasses at night when I write,
and I know I am a poet,
and I’m supposed to be both understood and misunderstood at the same time,
but I can tell you exactly why I wear my sunglasses when I write…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

she said sit down
I'm going to teach you something
I want you to listen closely
and react impulsively
I'm going to teach you to destroy a woman
I placed my drink on the table
among the booth too big for two people
I found it so odd
she was clearly attracted to me
but I found something behind
the most obvious undertow of ****** attraction
why would she want to teach me to destroy a woman
when she could not second guess that I only wanted her
I let go of my whiskey
intertwined my hands as I brought my entire attention to her mislead flirtatious lesson
I stared right into her eyes
but not fiercely or intensely
like a cliche Twilight type of character would
I locked my attention solely on her
I had to nearly remind myself to listen
first; listen to her, every word she uses
every social cue she speaks
every corny line and aspect ofdiverse diction
then find a way to say it back
find a way to remind her that you could not care about anything else like the pathetic men or ****** women wandering
second; find out what she wants
and make demands upon these obsessions
respectfully of course
if her favorite drink is an apple martini,
make sure she has one with you
third; be funny
there's nothing worse than a guy without humor
crack a joke about a dinosaur for all she could care, she'll laugh, corny or hysterical
I wrapped my hand around my whiskey
while holding my most attention I took a sip
I was sure I was becoming drunk
and that made me adore her more and more with each splash that fell down my throat
fourth; have something to offer
have potential
have something more than your ability to dress well
have a good, sustainable job
something you care about, something you want
five; be you
don't be reliant on her at all times
she needs independence as much as you
when you're saying you need a night with the guys
she probably needs a night with the girls
care for her but don't get attached to her
when you want to say something
even though it could change the outcome of a conversation
do it,
she'll expect you to alter her future
and rattle her expectations
even though she has no idea how she wants it to be done
six; rock her world
prepare yourself like a pre game warm up
like the SATs or the BAR exam
your ability to hold that conversation will lock her down faster than you can say "mine"
seven; stay committed
if you want to utterly destroy her
be ready
you know she'll want to come home with you
and have intense, romantic and physical ***
be ready to meet her needs
don't let her find one flaw in your night
she grabbed her glass took a small sip
blinked once, breathed deep and placed her glass down
holding her absolute perfection
when I say perfect I mean so so perfect
more than the proclaimed Jesus Christ
she was perfect
now go wander the room and find a woman
she stood up from her seat and walked to the bar
I stood still watching her leave
then turned my head in every direction
circling the bar like a foolish drunk
I wandered past every poor excuse of a woman
finding that every girl could not meet my slightest of demands
until I found myself at the bar
searching the bar for one woman worth destroying
one woman worth pillaging or washing away like a relentless storm
until I turned to my direction in her classy and **** perfection
I walked up from behind her and said
an apple martini and a whiskey please
how'd your night go she asked
accompanied by a sigh I told her that I  could not care about any of those pathetic men or ****** women wandering the bar
she smiled, and why not she asked so daringly
because I want to be accompanied by beauty and intellect
not emptiness people with no potential
so what do you have to offer then? she asked me
well I'm 2 weeks from writing my BAR exam
but up until 10 minutes ago,
I've never studied something so hard in my life
she smiled again, and why do you want to be a lawyer?
a good Christmas bonus I answered
she laughed while grabbing her drink
and what do you do I asked?
I am a legislative attendant
I accompany all of our lovely law makers
She said sarcastically
I place my hand on the back of her chair and said; well luckily I shut them all down
she laughed again and suggested we open a law firm together
to inflict similar damage on legislative members
and I told her I would struggle to work everyday
as I would be entirely locked on her
beauty, intellect, smile, squinting brown eyes, humor, perception, indecisions, independence and for knowing exactly what she wants and I am falling in love with it quicker than my last 6 straight whiskeys have made me drunk
although I could have just laughed and told her Id love that
I wouldn't have altered her expectations or rattle her expectations
I wanted to rock her world
and I did,
she grabbed me by the neck and kissed me
her lips were perfect,
she did not have one flaw
let's get out of here
we stood from our bar stools and stumbled out
and I shouldn't have to tell you she was about to have the best *** of her life
and fall in love with a man that loved her more than he did his whiskey