Alas, I’ve come to my final ode
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