Friday, January 3, 2014

"Dating in New York" (or "Why Are They All Crazier than I Am?")

This poem is dedicated to the gay Latino that gave me his dinner just to watch me eat.

Seems the men in New Yok City can be classified
As insane, jaded, childish, lunatic or snide,
Like the gypsy who ran dogfights back in Bahrain,
Or the inventor that exercised hanging upside-down on the train.

One guy peeled skin off my sunburned chest and ate it.
"That's technically cannibalism," I wistfully stated.
The Brazilian Scientologist rubbed my earlobes and hummed
Right over the appetizers, his elbows in crumbs.

Boring Bernie made the Amazon sound like a math class.
Stephen told me to be careful 'cause I eat like a fat-ass.
The men's wear designer wore a pinstriped purple suit.
The pharmaceutical consultant found my indignation "cute."

Turns out he's lying if he promises a puppy.
Turns out Goldman Sachs makes the worst kind of yuppie.
Turns out finance guys want you to sit there looking pretty.
And waiting till the fourth date? Too country for this city.

I may not have found love but I'm doing pretty well,

'Cause the crazier they are, the better stories to tell.

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