Last night, some 26-year-old, suspender-sporting Romeo — I have no evidence that the young man was wearing suspenders, but I'm a sucker for alliteration — was zinged squarely in the buttocks by Cupid's arrow. The object of his desire is a strawberry-blond lass who apparently answers to the name Lindsay. Lindsay must be something special, because our boy posted a Craigslist ad complete with a meandering sort of free-verse poem about her. Here it is, in its entirety:
we met
and parted
too brief
too sudden
strawberry blonde
and gentle
a soul
like mine
a smile
like heaven
5 spot
that night
modern eden
please please
glorious fate
return lindsay
to me
If fate is so glorious, wouldn't she have allowed you to get the young lady's number? Then again, are there phones in Modern Eden? There are shots of Fireball, after all.
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