Monday, March 25, 2013


This is a poetic entry. 

It's red. It's a rocket. It goes from 0 to 60 in five flat.
We pile in, the bucket seats sinking under us.
As we swerve in and out of traffic, time stands still.
The music blares, the bass booms, and cars stare.
I look out the window, to the other cars, who
reside in our metaphysical "dust"
And there I see you.

You wear aviator's sunglasses
Riding around in a '99 Explorer
The windows rolled up to avoid exposure
And suddenly, you see me
And I you

I can't see much
Your face tinted blue from the window
the flannel drained of any peculiarity
And we share a line-of-sight
for a split second

And I can't help to think but that
you are just that... a split-second memory.
I will never see you again...
but that olive green Explorer will remain
with the Mansfield sticker on the back

As we zoom past at 65
You will forget me and I you
but at least for a moment
I found that one
whom I can say
it was
"heartbreak at first sight"