You’ve Got Mail
I remember the movie well;
Full of incomparable romance,
Soul-mates of a sort
Long since found
Just digging through a loss of their own
As if love could be perfect
In that exact requited moment
Of a singular email message.
Despite obvious inflections
Of heart-warming moments,
Hollywood should really be more careful
To involve warning signs posted on overly-mushy labels
“Perfection doesn’t work in real life,
Prepare to be disappointed because
Your very own Tom Hanks came in the mail
Except he’s weird and wrinkled
And don’t forget he has too many eye-crinkles.”
In the coffee shop scene
He doesn’t stand you up
But be prepared to meet him with
Your eyes having disappointment lit them up.
You don’t know how to react beside silent lipped shock
Now you see why its
More credible to be stood up.
Perfect movie romance is dead
Or just comes alive with illusion,
Best to open your eyes and try not to lose it.
No use getting fake images in one’s mind
Or trying to look up that character built up to be divine.
Images lie meekly and sick,
They don’t tell the truth
Otherwise they scream oblivious until your eyes bleed from lack of sight.
I’m not saying don’t look for love,
I don’t mean give up on the fairy tale prince;
I’m merely issuing the warning
If it’s not right the first time
Then don’t be disappointed
Because more than likely
The brain wave mirage of hysterical endeavor
Will come down to the thin tendrils of
Your very own personal reveries
And try to leave those phantasmagoric dreams back with the ghost
Until those intermittent leftover thought functions
are all but severed.