Sunday, January 1, 2012

Missed Connections

November 24, 2011

right at home being lost - m4w - 50 (russian hill)

Date: 2011-11-24, 10:21PM PST
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there you were standing on the corner of leavenworth and green you wore a paisley scarf about a throat that i know must be tender soft inviting...vulnerable. your shoulder length hair is it blonde is it a sandy brown it was hard to tell in this late november light, the wind blowing it a bit sporadically, in its hilltop gusts. you seemed to know where you were though you glanced up at street sign and house numbers as if you were lost...i know that feeling i live it constantly have become somewhat comfortable in my confusion.

i was walking toward you, from union, longish hair, glasses, a long coat over my button down shirt...

you disappeared and all i remember now all i have left is the click the clack of your heels on the sidewalk...

November 25, 2011

eyes and throat - m4w - 50 (north beach / telegraph hill)

Date: 2011-11-25, 6:52PM PST
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you were in a jewelry and crafts store maybe you worked there maybe you are friends with the woman who did i came in with a friend you were talking i bought a scarf you smiled i bought your favorite one or so you say maybe it was a line maybe you're a craft store b-girl sitting at the bar making us guys feel comfortable and cocky with our wallets but i saw your gaze as you spoke i noticed the sparkle in your eyes beneath your knit hat i noticed the loveliness of your throat naked because yes i bought the scarf...

November 26, 2011

hill-spiration - m4w - 50 (russian hill)

Date: 2011-11-26, 12:21PM PST
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i walked up hyde from its beginnings or endings depending on where you set your emotional compass you were three steps in front of me and before you even reached beach you had stretched your arms above your head and shed yourself of your top layer i begged you to shed even more but did so quietly to only myself my momma she raised a gentleman you crossed the cable car tracks kept going up hyde i followed matching you step for step up the hill my eyes swinging with your hips the base of such a sweet hourglass the sand trickling down trickling down trickling down you paused at the light at north point i looked both ways and kept going passing you only so i could get that glimpse of who i followed putting a face to a figure then i paused on the other side to check my phone and you leap frogged back ahead of me and we kept climbing on up hyde up up up your sweet wiggling stride guiding me pulling me up the hill your hands went behind your back clasped together as if they alone could push you on up we walked leaning forward walked until my enthusiasm pulled me alongside you where i said something corny not wanting to stop mid-slope and break the momentum knowing that if we did we would never get to the top but you smiled and i grinned because sweet smiles drive me cheshire

and then i lost you in the group of tourists at the top of the lombard street hill

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