that elusive thing

love is

when going on dates one finds

a connection is not

merely a meeting of minds.


shared interests are great

but don’t compel you to make

a third or even second date.


an algorithmically perfect match

won’t make you think

the date is quite a catch.


so what is that elusive thing

that makes the lonely heart sing?


a dimple in a cheek?

a serendipitous way to meet?

a twinkle in an eye?

a smile on the sly?


what is that thing we cannot name

that lights the inner flame?


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The Language of Love

Ahh, French. The most romantic language, non? If you’re not whisking your sweetheart to Paris for the most romantic Valentine’s Day ever, then use these French terms of endearment for your chérie for a petite taste of France. Oui, oui!

1. “mon chou”

mon chou

translation: “my cabbage”

A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. A cabbage is kind of like a rose, right? Sulfuric smell and all?

 2. “mon trognon”

mon trognon

translation: “my core”

Oh bitter, poisonous inedible bits of a wonderful fruit. To toss in the garbage heap or compost pile?


3. “ma puce”

ma puce

translation: “my flea”

Your love. The light of your life. Your little bloodsucking pest. The itch you can’t ignore.

4. “ma crotte”

ma crotte

translation: “my turd”

Your rich, decadent, piece of …chocolate truffle. Yes, let’s just pretend it’s a chocolate truffle.


As you’ve come to learn, the French really have a way with words. Whisper these sweet nothings in your lover’s ear and get ready to feel the Parisian romance!


source: high school French class avec Mme Cohen, and
illustrations by me

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motives unveiled
emotions unmasked
subtext surfaced
doublespeak divided




Fluorite (dodecahedral faces) – Dal’negorsk, Primorskiy Kray, Russia
image via dan weinrich minerals

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in search of lost time



that oil slick of infinite possibility
which held no shape
but spread out
and spread out
before us

has settled
and dried

is putty no more.


the time we spent together
the time to spend together
not to be

sending me
in search
of lost time

yet the stoic mass
still glints and glitters
shimmers as it did
in an endless remembrance
of things past.

Proustite – Schlema, Saxony, Germany
image via dan weinrich minerals

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