in the green room...with my lonely earring

(an excerpt from Girl out of Water poetry files 2002)

The Missing Earring

Lost another earring tonight at the movie theatre; my beaded silver dangling spiral ones that everybody comments on. One earring probably swept into a trash heap, the other, abandoned. I return home to add her to the box with all the other lonely earrings. There was the pair of earrings my mother gave me in junior high school when I went through my Rastafarian phase and wore shells all the time. Then there are my jade Buddha’s,I inherited, but that one, almost makes sense to wear alone. These silver hoops I got in Canada for 2 bucks. The copper mermaid, the stars and moon collage, the music note,the golden heart. All loners now, left to rot in the bottom of my jewelry box, only to be worn as an 80’s fashion statement, like Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan.
Sometimes I fantasize that somewhere out there, someone has found the other earring, like a lost umbrella, or a glove or sock that got mixed up in your wash at the laundry mat. Somewhere out there someone’s saying a prayer for the earring without a match. They sit imagining who the earring could belong to and wondering, maybe even praying the earring belongs their soul mate.
Walking down the street they have forgotten all about looking at tits and ass, now they are checking out the ears, hoping to find the other half to the puzzle that magically found it’s way to them. Desperately seeking to fit together with someone. They play the whole scenario in their heads. A summer day, a warm breeze, their favorite shirt on, chai tea latte in hand crossing from the west village to the east through Washington Square Park. Not much on the brain. Unusually, he’s not looking for her today, the owner of the missing earring. Suddenly in his awkward flair he bumps into a girl. She’s pissed but he likes feisty ladies so this doesn’t deter him. He’s not interested in her at first, more concerned that he didn’t get any on his favorite shirt or on her or if he has enough left to drink, since Starbucks is way too expensive. Phew! No damage done, then he notices her eyes, that unexplainable something creeping behind them. He can see them laughing together, movies and museums, cooking and sleeping in, nightclubs and getting bored and going home. Making love over and over again. He can see fall, winter and spring. Everyday looking into those eyes. Because somewhere in there, he feels like everything he’s ever done makes sense, that everything had lead him up to this moment and she sees it too, or at least he believes she does, because if she didn’t see it, how could he? When it’s love it is one vision, one truth and both people know it.

He says something funny which is something he does well and she laughs which is something she enjoys and then, they say goodbye and keeping on walking. From west to east, east to west, but they both want to turn around, they can feel the energy like a magnet, but she’s late for rehearsal and he’s just shy and they both say to themselves, “If it was meant to be, I’ll see him, I’ll see her again.”
At least he hopes, maybe she was thinking the same thing.

He goes home and writes all about this brief encounter with a Goddess.
She goes to rehearsal and sings like never before and every time they both walk by that first place where they met, they look around for those eyes, that moment, see if they can catch each other again. Weeks pass and they forget all about each other mostly and they’re both out with their friends in a bar that’s too smoky and loud and they don’t feel like drinking or talking, maybe just reading or dancing. But the music’s not that great and if they read they’d just fall asleep, which actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Suddenly a friend of a friend knows one of each other’s friends and soon they’re all sitting together.
He notices her eyes, plays it off like he doesn’t know where he’s met her before. She doesn’t play dumb… “You bumped into me on the street…I smelled like chai all day!”
They talk and feel and listen to the silent wanting of their bodies with promise of another meeting, some place quiet so they can concentrate.
He calls the next day, she’s happy and they meet for dinner, Thai.
Conversation flows like water and the food is good. They split the check and go for a walk. The wind drawing them closer and closer. He takes her hand; Velvet. They don’t feel like their rushing…Mmm mm just right…they share a kiss under a tree. One soft, simple kiss. Mmm mm, just right…sweet dreams.
Tomorrow and the next and the next day after that. Love is growing, unknown, yet knowing. No fear, just yes, Mmm mm, just right.

One night he comes over to her house to watch a movie and he’s in her room when he notices her jewelry box sitting on her make shift dresser.
He is tempted just to look and see if she could be the owner of this missing earring, and yes, there it is, the dangling beaded lonesome spiral earring. The match to the one he had found at the movie theatre.