by Sam Hendrian
Abandoned Eyes
Abandoned eyes light up
At the sound of the phone ringing
Praying it’s a grandchild
Or perhaps Pastor Pete.
Listens long enough
To want to believe the scammer
Since red flags are only as strong
As green light illusions.
Hangs up in the nick of time
Before a nickel can be dispensed
At the expense of shivering shoulders
That haven’t been hugged in God knows how long.
The bachelor in the apartment upstairs
Is having a similar predicament
Exchanging erotic mail
With a California girl in Scottsdale.
Who wouldn’t sell their soul
For a sampling of feeling wanted?
Maybe the leper or the sidewalk sleeper
Who’s already lost too much.
Abandoned eyes grow dim
At the sound of the alarm clock
Waking up from a dream
They thought might be the real deal.
I Talk to Strangers
A Tinder bender on a Tuesday night —
Pop goes the weasel of measly pickup lines —
Intentionally slamming into a brick wall
Just to feel something, anything at all.
I talk to strangers when I run out of friends,
I talk to friends when I run out of strangers
Which is technically impossible
If you’ve got no sense of pride.
But I can’t wade into hostile territory
Any more than I can handle slammed doors anymore
And I never feel more hated
Than when I’m tolerated.
Flesh then ghost in the blink of an eye,
Why not expedite all that’s good in this world?
Friendly entrance, unfriendly exit
Exhilaratingly blurry in-between.
I find strangers when I lose friends,
I find friends when I lose strangers
Who are always around
But rarely ready to be found.
What You Got On?
Bought a tampon for the hell of it,
Cut her finger for the smell of it
Missing the messy truth
That beauty blossoms best in youth.
Deflected her wrinkled reflection
With some wannabe pimp’s erection,
Calling him on the subway
Hoping to hear she looked great today.
But all she got was an order
To describe her hip-to-thigh border
Then a routine investigation
Into where would be her exit station.
Privacy sacrificed for proof
Of prime real estate beneath a tattered roof,
Followed around by a sandpaper voice
Assuming she had no other choice.
Nowhere near happy
Although not as sad as she could be
Asking the sexiest lingerie store
What on earth would I need those for?
Willfully compliant,
No longer self-reliant
Save for the moments she turned out the light
Before she could see there’s no partner in sight.
Thought of First
Two people meet on a screen,
Try to guess what the other might mean
By Hahaha and Lol
Scared the verdict will be “Oh well.”
Not really looking for love
Well, not the kind they think highly of
Just a distraction
With little risk of forwards action.
‘Cause once you move forwards, there’s no going back
From the inevitable anxiety attack,
The likely conclusion
You traded peace for confusion.
Although few are at peace with being alone
Tallying up every buzz on their phone
As proof of being thought of first
Not tolerated like a vagrant’s thirst.
Hobbies and interests, kinks and goals,
Complementary halves for nonexistent wholes
Dot dot dot, dot dot dot, never mind
What the hell did we think we were going to find?
Two people disappear on a screen
Still trying to guess what the other might mean
By Hahaha, you’re as sweet as apple pie
Now goodbye.
:)
Sam Hendrian is a Los Angeles-based filmmaker, poet, and playwright striving to foster empathy through art. From writing personalized poems for passersby outside of an LA bookstore every week, to making Chaplin-esque silent films about loneliness and human connection nearly once a month, Sam lives to make other people feel seen and validated. More work can be found on Amazon, YouTube, and in various online literary magazines.