Shoubi or not by Michaël Korchia
To the Brunette Girl in the Red Coat
Missed Connections in Brooklyn
It’s Thanksgiving and I just saw you on the L Train.
You were reading One Story, and I was tragically eating some Sun Chips.
I am a tall blonde guy and I was wearing a blue coat and a sweater and a tie.
I’m sorry for the not talking to you, but I was really self-conscience about the Sun Chips.
You see, I was having an allergy attack and I have a deranged belief that junk food cures my allergies.
(This is likely a placebo, but it works, so there.)
In any case, this was no way to initiate conversation with you with a bag of Sun Chips.
Plus, by the time I had the courage, it was Union Square.
I liked your coat, it had a neat little alligator on it.
You got on at Graham with me and you got off at Union Square.
I was reading a Woody Allen book.
Oh, we smiled at each other more than once, which I think officially requires me to post this.
One Year Ago: Lost Lover (Salt Lake City)
Her Two Cents from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle-Finder:
Dear Brooklyn poet, why am I not surprised you were reading Woody Allen? Your Sun Chips as an antihistamine idea isn’t without merit, though – for all we know, you could be on the leading edge of a new, non-pharmaceutical cure for allergies. Grab your books, your chips, and listen to a little Supermika (that’s a photo of them above). Everything sounds better in French, including deranged beliefs about junk food and missed connections on the L Train.
