Her name was Laura
We met at an open mic night
I adored her singing while on the keyboard
I wish I remembered the song she sang
Watch it pop in my head randomly
Memory is funny that way
We block out or keep both the good and bad
My mind is a jumbled mess of love notes
Laura was my third true love
We never made it beyond first base
But we smashed it out the park in so many other ways
I will never forget the time she brought soup to my job
Nothing like eating chicken tortilla soup atop a city scaffold
It was pretty warm that day too
Breakfast at that little diner in midtown
It is not even there anymore
I felt the stares of the sistaz as we walked down the kc streets
I loved the contrast of my mohagany next to her pale milky skin
I still have a collection of photos
I had a bad habit of binge watching those sky blue eyes
Last time I looked her up on social
She was with some regular looking dude
I can’t really hate
Cause I’m just another regular lookin’ dude who happens to be 6’2”
So what happened
She warned me that she had already dated a guy before with Fee fi FO kids
That was an omen
If only I had not gotten caught back a second time in the web of my former wife
Who knows where I would be
Because our poetry back and forth
Was something special
You were a much better writer
Yet we complimented each other well
Staring deep down the windows of our souls
Bringing out the best parts of me
Parts I did not know existed
It is amazing how you can write to someone you are attracted to
But the words do not go erotic
There was a purity to it
And the pauses in-between gave us time to think
Way better than talking on the phone
I saw her one day on Broadway
Randomly riding in boots with the fur
That is what she called her black jeep
I forgot the story behind that ride
I do not think she saw me
Oh well
Thank you
You set the standard for whoever becomes my next
Pal Poetry
aaronjyancey.com 