The Flirt – Mim Roeder
In my mind I am being charming
I see myself, glancing casually
Eyes dewy, lashes batting
Simple smile full of promise
Sipping slowly through pursed lips
Little tug on lip with teeth
Alluring speech, all esses and emms
Not too many words, small phrases
In my mind I am enticing
Moon-kissed skin peeking
From unbuttoned shirt
Shadows leading to secret
Places yet to be discovered
Curve of wrist and pulsing
Neckline revealing pulsing heart
Short hem and tender back of knee
In reality, however, I become aware
My glance is awkward stare
Eye waters from running makeup
Lipstick stuck on teeth, and broccoli
Nervous sip leads to near death choking
Sputtering spitting guffaws
Stuttering tees and dumbfounded dees
Catastrophe embodied in my display
In The Deep End With Wendy Peffercorn – Oh Dae-su
The blonde smiling by the corner of the bar tells me
she works the crazy whore for her four year old son.
We drink tequila before her late shift
And she manages to escape the Downlo
before another creep tries to run his luck.
Someone outside is talking
Poetry but I'm too busy brushing hands
with the lamppost like:
Where'd you find your light?
I can never seem to find the moon in the valley.
I'm always Lost on Main in the midnight swaths,
those swarms of dark blues always
welling up in a frenzy of disdain.
But you, you're not like all the others.
When the heart of the city calls for me
from between the sheets of blurry lights,
I buy another round of shots for both of us
and she promises not to come on too strong.
I put my head in my hand
and pull the paper and plastic from my wallet.
We finger the jukebox until last call and
she lights my smoke
with the matches I use to burn bridges.
"Don't tell me you never play with fire"
and she's gone before I sign the check.
Samsara – Avo Woovy
We traded schoolyards for stained bar tops
The palms of a sweaty hand for sweaty glasses that leave indiscriminate dark rings on soft paper cushions.
Our cheeks are no longer rosy from embarrassment.
But instead rosy from a certain anxiety and lack of impulse control to what is pressed at our lips.
And so the infinite dance begins
I throw my body weight around shamelessly, to posture the same wanting, hungry question
My hips act as punctuation
And maybe your eyes as syntax
And we both remember
Where we asked it before
We asked in sandboxes,
Behind trees playing house,
Running around gravel tracks
But it has been the same since,
The same splintered waltz with left feet
And we have received no unanimous answer
after all these years of posing, our brows furrowed
Is this conversation enough,
Is this vessel enough
Is this flesh enough
Is this person enough, that stands before you
open like a seventh grade dissection,
Am I enough?
For the very least
Worthern Tale of Flirtation – Christopher Barry
In the beginning I flirted with notion
it was the Lounge Lizard in the bar corner
who spiked Edgar Allen Poe’s drink at the Worthern
Kerouac leaned over the bar flirting with former
Catholic school girl flirting with him, under a ceiling fan
It’d been been beyond three decades ago
at the Lowell grotto they flirted together
it moved beyond carnal flirtation, under stations of the cross
Jesus on a cross nailed right in, opened arms flirting—
with sky and heaven
Poe motioned Kerouac with a flirtatious smile and wave
Jack leaned in, “what you got Edgar, anything good”
“I’m flirting with rabies in a gutter in Baltimore election day”
they both went up the rickety stairs
to the Worthern second floor
She's Such A Flirt – Steve Samons
She's trying a real trike.
Such a flirt.
Yielding one unfinished riddle.
Such a flirt.
Enacting no genious in never-ending skirts.
Such a flirt.
Girlish outlooks. Tough town attitudes.
Such a flirt.
Such a flirt.
Fancy apple-shaped temptress.
Such a flirt.
Flirter – Izeck Free-World Hempseed
Behave like it matters
As if it really matters
Though it’s just a game
Attracted to your name
Trying makes it feel less lame
To feel like the aim
Attract as a distraction
Someone, anyone, make me feel alive
But just for fun
For a little run
Amusement goes and comes
Rather just make snarky puns
Than or then
With or without
Serious Lee, I rather doubt
Flirting – Bryan Anthony Phoenix
To flirt is to stoke the flame inside the heart of another who wishes to do the same
Flirting is not just some game of how coyly one can smile while repeating a cute person’s name,
nor is it just the battle of banter laced with innuendos and dynamic eyebrow crescendos
Flirting is an impromptu song that tells a story of our souls would get along if not hindered by concepts of right and wrong
To flirt is to recognize the intrinsic beauty of another’s worth while holding a healthy curiosity of what they may look like without a shirt
Flirting is an art form where sharp norms of society are dissolved by soft adornments of sweet supporting words, bright authentic smiles, and the natural playfulness of our wise inner child
Flirting is love’s chance to explore and express the possibility of deeper coalescing,
and whether it lasts for just a moment or leads to kissing and undressing, to flirt is to honor that divine force within us all that is always ready for a blessing
And blessed are the ones who allow the inner flirt to flourish, because flirting is never hurting when done with respect of another’s nourishment
So Go out there lover’s! Flirt to your delight!
It will all come naturally if you just shine your inner light,
always be sure to smile and find that shimmer in the other’s eyes
And the rest will just flow, and who knows, you might just have a good time
Misplaced Love/Lust – Sanchez
I don’t know if
this is mutual
Are we friends?
Or are we the lovers
that we never were
In our minds,
all over and
inside our bodies
-our private and
very well-known areas of
I gazed at you
Wondering if we could actually
and be united by fate.
I just mistook your kindness
for my misplaced love
over and over again.
Flirt – Dane Mutters
She’s buying watermelons, and I’m trying not to think about crass pickup lines
— No matter how funny they would be.
So, I’m looking at the asparagus and thinking simultaneously about how I want to cook those ribeyes I bought, and whether asparagus is the side I want to go with them;
Meanwhile, the other aspects of my masculinity chime in, suggesting that I really should go over and talk to this girl.
He has brown, almost hazel eyes, and I like the quirky upturn at the corners of her mouth, which could indicate:
One, that she has a clever, wry sense of humor; or
Two, that she’s too stupid or crazy to know that it isn’t always appropriate to smile.
I try to talk myself out of approaching her, out of some sense of assumed pickiness;
But really, it’s because I’m just feeling insecure.
She has a pimple on the right side of her forehead that looks like it’s been therefore a while.
Her hair is loose, like she doesn’t know how to use a hair-tie, but tried to, anyway.
Her basket is full of “organic” produce, which proves that she doesn’t actually know anything about what constitutes “organic” produce. She must be ignorant.
Maybe malnourishment is what’s causing her skin condition.
Then, she goes over to the Red Box, while I’m still stupidly pondering over which bunch of rubber-banded asparagus to buy, or whether to give up on it and buy broccoli, instead, or whether to get the asparagus and some lemon to go with it...that would be good with the Himalayan salt I bought from a different store…
And she’s looking at Arrival.
My heart leaps, because that might mean that she has some grasp of the sociological expositions displayed in the film, regarding innate xenophobia in a nation full of immigrants.
Perhaps she also likes science fiction that’s about philosophy, instead of special effects. Yes! I’ve met my bride-to-be!
Then, out of the corner of my lemon-filled field of view, I see the colors on the screen shift from silver to red and blue. Must be that new Marvel movie.
I like Marvel movies, because they involve some really neat special effects (forget what I said, above), and plenty of blowing stuff up. And how cerebral they are...obviously.
OK, that could work.
Maybe I’m just horny.
Well, yeah, but it would be nice to meet someone with assets above the shoulders, too.
I guess her below-the-shoulders assets aren’t that bad.
So, I’ve picked out my asparagus and lemons, and I’m really sure I’m ready to talk to her, at which point I realize that I also need to get some red wine to compete the meal.
I mean, if I’m going to have a nice dinner with a pretty and intelligent woman (pretty despite the zit and bad hair day...I mean, I’m not that shallow, right?), I should at least have a nice bottle of wine to share with her.
Besides, she’s not done picking out her movie, and probably also wants to buy something other than organic produce and the chic flick she finally picked out.
So, I go over and buy a $10 bottle of wine, because I’m classy like that. Yep, no Rex Goliath, this time, even though it’s actually pretty good.
I walk over to the checkout stand, and as it’s time to insert my awkward new chip-card, she’s entering the back of the line at the next stand over. She really is pretty, now that I’m not focusing on the overpriced vegetables.
I absent-mindedly tell the clerk to have a nice day, and then realize that it would be awkward to stand around for two minutes waiting for her to be done checking out.
Well, there’s always next time, and at least, I have a nice dinner.