In Search of the Fabled “Her"

My mind is in the gutter;
there with lipstick-ringed cigarettes butts,
withering leaves and discarded parking tickets.
It rests where it does,
soaking up the murky runoff
of rain water, spit and wind- (and tire-) deposited dirt.
Those grounds are lower
than the desperation of a man
whose celibacy was thrust upon him.
That desperation,
coupled with the lingering sensation of his last sexual encounter,
has become his Sisyphean burden.
I look around to see where she is,
but where she is
is not within my sight.
The streets are cold and vacant
(where it matters most);
there are people, but they still feel empty.
I start to walk,
in search of my destiny,
in search of the fabled “her”.
I end up at a crossroads
where existential doldrums
meets creativity.
I stand there
looking…
          looking…           

©2011 José-Ariel Cuevas