And You Left With Your Head Filled With Flames
Missed Connections in Manhattan
And You Left With Your Head Filled With Flames
i’m here in this vacuum,
(“you’re beautiful”)
this absence of light, fumbling myself for a switch.
this stark reality is a lack of clarity
that permeates and condescends to me and chastises my resolve.
i didn’t pause it, i muted it instead
(you’re still moving but the volume is turned off)
and how strange it is to watch waves breaking without a sound.
by contrast the wind is loud; it is a catalyst
and a murderer without the regret that i know.
the trees are all barren now but they weren’t always this way
(the lifeless leaves were pink park petals when i knew you)
but maybe like an errant ember i can light them,
maybe with cupped hands i can till the frozen dirt
and warm what was hurriedly half-buried.
NOTE FROM THE MISSED CONNECTIONS CHIEF BOTTLE FINDER:
I don’t know what to think about this missed connection from NYC. I’ve read it through a few times and while there are some bits that I really like, “i didn’t pause it, i muted it instead (you’re still moving but the volume is turned off) and how strange it is to watch waves breaking without a sound.” there’s something disjointed that I can’t put my finger on… I guess that’s the “problem” with personal messages being launched into the ether. The meaning isn’t always meant to be transferred to the reader.
