whoever said you can't find love on Tinder
has obviously never found a needle in a haystack.

There isn't anything to blame in such a deficit,
but when you're shuffling through the wires
of
hay-grass
seeking nothing in particular
only to ***** your finger to bleed
blood
red
love,
the fact you found it in the hay
should be no reason to discard its beauty.

In an internet casino of loveless *****
and gambled encounters,
where the rest of the hay is a pale green or pale gold in color,
I would have been blind had I missed the sheen
from the tips
of your bluebird feathers
as you perched just as curiously
and just as confusedly as I did.

We wrung the slot machine's lever
one
more
time
and found one another
gazing into our eyes
like we'd known each other
for longer
than a millennium
could ever claim
to measure.