Blind Date Wind

On an ordinary day lazily predicted to be similar to others before it

Your poet was in his mind drawing symbols in warm sand on his mental beach when he was interrupted

Woman, looking like she came to me on a mission with full knowledge of my goings inquired of my destination

Who are you written on my face in hurried cursive expressed by my face twitching as I held back disdain being interrupted

Before I could find a soft response she sat down at the table and said surely you’ve been looking for me

When I was about to declare her error, educating her of said ignorance, she leaned in and said, Edmond, I’ve been told you’ve been looking for me

See I’ve been looking for someone and was told just this morning it is you now what shall we do?

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