The best part about this entry is that our aspiring Shakespeare here sent our lovely contributer this poem... and it's about some other woman! Tsk!
Rondel for Ariel on the Beach
Completeness is, by nature, incomplete.
Look at the stars. So strange to meet you here,
your sweatshirt torn and wet sand in your hair.
You say that you're from Baltimore. Your feet
seem far too tan for that. And in this heat,
the coolness of your not-too-drunk demeanor
is made complete by nature. Incomplete
connect the dots of stars. I met you here
when Greg said you were into art, you eat
only foods starting with letters A through R.
How cool. Let's stay away from vinegar,
and what the hell, I'm lonely, it's almost three.
Completeness is, by nature, incomplete.
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