Long-Distance Mendaciousness

Los Angeles city, now also LA the Ride,

Prevented him from the coffee for which he'd applied,

The woman asked the man if he lets anything slide,

"All the time, plus also I'm funny!" he lied.

He sits alone in a cafe charging his phone,

Reads the obtuse, and hears the unknown,

Neither working on muscle tone nor funny bone,

While the lady resides in a distant zip code.

Letting things slide precludes friction, for sure,

But I need the grip to tether myself to the world,

Their differences surely bespeak of a cure,

So he sits and waits for his points to mature.

A Memory of Our First Conversation

The female skeptic grilled the man,

His formal demeanor had merely began,

He complemented her face and milky features,

And an air of a shy librarian or teacher.

She needed more from him: proof of a brain,

Not another dullard, nor buffoonery again,

Her standards demanded grammar, a capacity to learn,

Though when pushed for the same, she could not return.

~Dr. Michael S Campbell

Once Upon a Timely Preposition

The serpent tempts them both as their shadows carve the light,

He scratches out these words well into the night,

As her tea quantumly steeps at two different degrees,

He places his palm against his head and reminds himself to breath.

The man admits this woman seems intellectual,

Even though she claims to not be a sapiosexual,

A merging of the minds, a synthesis of philosophy,

Can start only after we get our asses some coffee.

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,

His humor's too dry, just add water to LOL,

And she heard him exclaim as they talk of taboos,

My eyes are up here, stop staring at my shoes!