Love Lost

So it didn’t work out, fine! There’ll be other men to join me in my ritual
Frisbee romps every sunny Sunday afternoon of the year. Accompanied by Junren,
my (ever ready to have ritual Frisbee romps, every sunny Sunday afternoon of
the year) great beast of a dog.

As we surrender our backs to the itchy yet comfortably padded green park grass,
we gaze beyond the dragons and sailboats. Passionate yet meticulous eyes
discover a velvet blue, deep yellow, bright pink and burnt orange glow that
eternity wears when lovers are, well...in love.

Surely there’ll be another man that’ll desire my company for a cup of java at
Joe’s Café. Someone to stroll arm and arm with, down the cracked sidewalks of
New York. Massaging my intellect with arguments and psalms from scholars,
professors, and his father, Leon.

Surely there’ll be another man. One easily found. He‘ll come to sweep me off
my Addidas! Whispering tenderly into my left ear that I’m a princess, before
nibbling the tingles out of every nerve in my body. He‘ll usher me to the
quiet corner table at Plazzi’s. The candlelight will illuminate his dark
chiseled face. He’ll hold my hand as he recounts, just one more time, of what
life will be like once his books start to sell.

How hard could he be to snag? He’ll fall into my lap just like the last time.
Maybe, oh I don't know...drop his suitcase on my fresh pedicure, trip over
himself in an attempt to fight the steady row of oncoming passengers and snotty
stewardesses. He’ll cup my naked soul into his hands. Reading my eyes, he’ll
open windows allowing light, liberation, and love to flood inside. Melting
away the calluses placed on my heart, he‘ll lift (by a single ink stained
finger) my chin, face, and mind to something I could never have imagined
possible. A future and...what was that...a hope?

Perhaps then I would get to know the desires of my new loves heart. As chance
may have it, he could...oh I don’t know...end up staying on the same island as
me. In the same rickety hotel. Down the same open hallway, with the same view
of the great shaded palm. Concealing the most beautiful Mediterranean sunset
either of us could have ever painted ourselves. He could sit with me,
poolside. We could order red swirly drinks at the cabaña while waiting
anxiously until evening draws its curtain and the Tango and Moraga are free to
mix lust with enchantment...

To create the most written about event, any one of my 4 diaries has become
acquainted with yet....