You were an Angel, screaming at airplanes in the parking lot of Costco. Our eyes locked just as you pulled the last of your hair out. It was as red as the red in the RED LOBSTER signs I’ve heard of in modern lore. I was wearing bermuda shorts and a vintage wedding gown that I may or definitely may have stolen from a yacht earlier in the day. You smelled of tapioca and longing. Set your jean jacket on fire, I’ll find you.

MISSED CONNECTION (July 19th, 2011)

Missed Connection:

Last week on a crowded Brooklyn bound F-Train.You: low cut green blouse and pants that appeared to be made out of bark. You had most of your teeth and had obviously had just shined your hook hand.Me: I was the one in the pleather kimono trying to sell my self-hypnosis DVD’s. I made eye contact with your good eye.

If you’re out there dream woman, start one of those fires with black smoke that rises in the sky like in ‘LOST.’ I’ll be there in twenty minutes or three days (depending on if this wheelchair that I souped-up works).