To find the man on Welwyn Road

It’s hard to say adieu,
I’m writing this to find you

It was August first in Thomaston
That’s where you said you are from

Actually, you said from India you derive
A white Mercedes you did drive

You said I looked nice, you said it twice
I said I was flattered but none of it mattered

Until I did a double take
Then I knew I’d made a mistake

I thought maybe you’re a mensch
But, of course, there was a wrench

If I could go back in time your info I should have requested
So we could swap cars as you suggested

I forgot to get your name and you didn’t get mine
I may write in February a Valentine

You could be a total prince
But I haven’t seen you since

Maybe you are on vacation
Or now hang out at the Great Neck station

Or go to Diwan for Indian food
I like it when I’m in the mood

Tikka masala and tandoori too
I like creamed spinach with vindaloo

Maybe I’ll see you on Middle Neck Rd
Then we will reap what we’ve sowed

But meanwhile, still need to look
Maybe you’re in the library reading a book

Or seeing the sights at Steppingstone Park
But for now, I’m in the dark

Unless the Steppingstones lighthouse shines on this poem
And you read it while at home

Here I write for the last time
After this I can’t make it rhyme

If I get no reply when this I write
I’ll chalk it up to “two ships in the night”

Summer is nice, but I love Fall
Here’s my number, hope you call

Leslie Feldman

Great Neck