online dating

i'm a male, twenty-seven,
white, brown hair, green eyes,
about six feet two, one eighty,
looking for a match.

five foot five or shorter,
but not too, and around one twenty,
hair any, eyes any (redhead a plus),
between twenty-one and twenty-six.

non-smoker, preferably employed,
somewhat active but not too,
lives relatively close to me
and is open about religion.

also, like, it's cool if she has a degree,
but not something lame like philosophy,
she needs to be smart, you know?
so maybe something with computers...
no conservatives, no jesus lovers,
and she shouldn't have a lot of baggage,
so past relationships are OK but nothing
too serious - she doesn't have to be a virgin
but she can't have blown another guy.
(also while we're on sex it's a plus if she
doesn't expect me to go down on her.)
in terms of body type i'm pretty flexible,
i mean i want SOME boobs, but not picky...
and definitely like the hourglass shape,
but not if it means she's fat.
she also needs to get my sense of humor...
and it's a plus if she has a cute laugh.
i want her to want to cuddle with me
but also like give me my space sometimes.
if she can cook that's cool but if not OK,
but she has to like sushi - non negotiable.

<<MATCH NOT FOUND.>>
<<ACCEPT OTHERS' FLAWS OR BE ALONE FOREVER>>
<<LEARN TO LOVE SOMEONE FOR WHO THEY ARE>>

one of the things we forgot to do
in planning for my father's funeral
was cancel the newspaper he read,
its delivery one sunday a surprise.

my mother didn't read them,
but he always would, in his chair
after dinner, with a cup of coffee
leaving a ringed stain on most pages.

when it came i recalled
one night as a child when i read with him,
mine being a comic in a bazooka joe
in what would have made for a good picture.

i sat down with the paper,
and read every story, and wondered
what he would've thought about this,
and knowing what he'd hate about that.

when i was done i recycled it all,
called up the company to cancel,
and explained how we wouldn't need it,
since i was buying my mom a computer.

muse

every day after school
we'd drive over to kenny's,
where dave and his buddies
played shitty music for hours.

they started out on love songs,
which were easy enough to write
with the butterflies of a new fling
and the novelty of screwing someone new.

yet ballads like "never loved anyone
as much as i've loved you"
gave way to "slipping away
like sand through my fingertips."

like i said - it was shitty music,
and while by the end i was still inspiration,
i was no longer one for love,
but for heartbreak and loss.

dave had more muses after me,
each one providing a spark
before burning out like a flare,
a signal for help in a sea of regret.