Before sunrise I’m flipping through a catalogue of men,
A parade of men looking for relationships, super closeups,
Guys in ball caps, blurry headed, sideways, in bed, crazy
Faces with monsters, in cubicles, beside lattice fences,
Strapped into car seats, in the shower, in private airplanes
And parking lots, with pretty women, or girls clipped off
At the arm, the side of her blonde hair, children’s eyes
Xed out with a bar or splotches of yellow, or showing off
Tattoos spiraling like squid down muscular arms, balding,
On motorcycles, looking for hookups or soulmates—
Screen and song writers, holding guitars, some with
Unbrushed hair, tangled like seaweed, some not even
In the picture, just shots of salad, and there’s a fellow
Holding a drink big as a cabbage and I don’t know if he
Is an axe murderer or my Uber driver, I think as I notice
The sun has slipped to the other side of the gate, morning
Misquotes have ceased their biting, retreating, at least
For a few hours, as a pop up blocks my search, asking
For a few more dollars for the chance to meet my mate.
Photo by Niklas Hamann on Unsplash
