A man who ‘writes’ messages me on OkCupid saying he won’t read other authors, wants ‘it to be original’. A receipt is in the corner of the chat window. I hope that he gets the message.
Cupid messages the other man who gets a window of hope that authors me. He wants the message to be original, he writes on a receipt. I chat in the corner saying ‘it is ok … won’t be read’.
Arrange today. Be at the grass. Plane some bodies to a low point. Here is what assembles overhead. Momentarily decide on the one to love. Do you still know that flies?
Cupid says the original message won’t be OK. He authors the window and that receipt. I corner a man of hope and chat in other messages. He wants to write it to me. Who gets read?
At what point do you decide to love someone? Bodies arrange on the grass. The day assembles. A low plane flies overhead. Know that to be here is to be momentarily still.
Desire reversing out a driveway. My eyes water lines of asphodels. End the real paradise scene. Shot the last piece of our tribute. I walk to the car.
Still here at a low point. Love momentarily assembles on bodies, arrange some head. Today you decide on what to do-over: the grass, ‘be the one’, the plane that flies.
Our end lines paradise. I walk to the asphodels. Desire drives the real scene reversing a car out of shot. My eyes water, a way to tribute the last piece.
The last piece of paradise walks out of shot. The eyes water. My tribute to real desire. Asphodels line our driveway. I end the scene: a car reversing.
Read the rest of Overland 226
If you enjoyed this prizewinning poem, buy the issue
