As you walked past me, we eyed each other
(I had sunglasses on but watched you as you walked by)
When you got on the uptown C train I couldn’t help
but stare at you in amazement (and I could tell that you noticed).
You had short hair, were carrying a bouquet of flowers
and wearing a pair of Blunnies.
You are just about the very image of the woman I have always imagined and dreamed about, somehow.
A feeling of seeing someone terribly familiar
who I have never met.
I don’t know if anyone can relate, but for a long time now, I feel like I’ve been searching for something. I’m not even sure what it is exactly, but from time to time, I go on eBay and search for some antique, some artifact, anything at all that stands out to me, something extraordinary. And though I have found some truly beautiful things, none of it is that one thing that I’m searching for. To be honest, I don’t even know if it’s material. But something inside of me feels like there is something out there calling to it. It feels deep, powerful, unrelenting, something. Primordial. This feeling isn’t letting me sleep.
You had me with those eyes of yourz
I come to the drive thru You give me my bacon ranch salad with no bacon and with balsamic dressing You’re gorgeous and I want to get to know you a lot better I think you know who I am Was staring at your body when I walked in today your smile is contagious I think you’re with someone but I want a discreet thing with us
We danced at TBA on Friday night. I’m not sure why we stopped. I didn’t want to stop.
I saw you coming down Sixth Avenue in Chelsea on Tuesday, late afternoon. You are young. I am older. You were wearing a long coat with a short dress. The coat was open and I could see two small tears in your stockings. I wondered if you knew they were there. Our eyes met for a brief moment and held.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I got off the D train at 50th street you have a beautiful face and an amazing ass you are very thick and extremely sexy why the fuck did you keep your ear buds in so I can’t even try to holla at your fine ass you were wearing black is what I remember it was this evening
Your eyes had the floatiness and translucence of a serene sea something
Our gazes met a few times, and it’s cool
how we’re both alert
despite our apparent weariness
If it’s you, say what piercing I had.
Woman in the Orange Sundress and Sun hat on the G Line
We met on Sunday at the library and struck up a conversation. We had both lived in Providence and now found ourselves in Brooklyn. We watched an old man yell at the staff for stealing a dollar. My computer number was up on the queue and I awkwardly (rudely) left without saying goodbye. This is because I obviously have the worst flirt game on the planet. In the wild and off chance that this ad finds you, please contact me.
I looked at you and closed my eyes
I do what I always do
I try not to notice beautiful women
Simona Blat was born in Riga, Latvia. She hosts a poetry salon at Brazenhead Books and is also the founding editor of Brazenhead Review, a journal of art and literature that publishes anonymously. Her writing has recently appeared in Hello Mr. and The Brooklyn Rail. She lives in Brooklyn.