a poem by Maddie Flanagan
I’m sorry to cut in like this, but
I can’t help but imagine
what could possibly happen
if I got to know you.
So I wrote you this letter you don’t have to read,
But I kinda sorta just felt the need
To give it to you, because you’re so
magnetic.
And I’m feeling really daring today,
maybe cause Mercury’s in retrograde,
like the stars wanted me to notice you?
So I did.
I like the way you turn the page
of that Orwell book, love him, by the way.
And how you order breakfast:
a large coffee light and sweet,
and a strawberry yogurt parfait.
And I think we’d just look good together,
with your umbrella over my head in the rainy weather.
Because you’re nice like that.
I think,
aren’t you?
But I could be the Jane to your John Doe,
down the aisle at your elbow
in a dress that was once my mother’s.
You can meet her if you like,
her name is Carol and she’s pretty nice,
but she can be a bit much sometimes.
Just warning you.
But you don’t have to meet her if we elope,
and live in a cottage on the coast
of England, or France perhaps.
Speaking of France,
I heard the waitress call you Jacques,
and honestly I was in shock, because
you seem like a Brad or Ben or Brock.
or Blake, maybe?
But Jacques is pretty cool too...
Oh, and I’m sorry for being so rude!
I completely forgot to introduce
myself.
My name is