07.18.02 - 1:35 p.m.

(note: this is a poem in progress that i've been doing on and off this morning. it's by no means polished, and i really don't know if i'll ever polish it. it's just here sort of as a way to save it for another time, if i ever wanna edit and revise it.)

mickey blue eyes

Mickey Blue-Eyes never got her number, just
Her card, which didn�t include her number at all, contrary
To her assertions. Just her card: her first name
Splashed across the top in a generous, scrawling font, all
glistening ink (or whatever. Enamel?
How was he supposed to know?) as if she�d signed it herself.

Just her card: the letters of her first name slippery-slope-sliding
Toward formlessness, and beneath: cat burglar.
Cat burglar! How astonishing, really. He had
Expected something less shocking, something more
Conventional on such a gray and rain-soaked day. Also,
She didn�t look like a cat burglar. Receptionist, he had her pegged,
secretary, someone who keeps candy on her desk and safety
Pins in her change purse, just in case.

And that was what he was looking for, just then.
Someone who keeps candy on her desk, someone
Who would be pleased by a $5.99 bunch of supermarket
Roses and tinfoile, drugstore heart, full of cheap
Chocolates, more creams than nuts
And hardly any caramels.

Cat burglar. She would probably want caramels
In her chocolates, and sapphires in her
Diamond bracelets and something exotic, like orchids, anthuriums,
In her surprise bouquet, and a phrase prettier, less
Worn than I love you sputtered across
Her pillow in the middle of the long night.