Plato Goes on a Date

My mind’s projectionist
encaves himself in visions
of beauty-wit-grace-charm
he thinks might stand for you.

You are not a theory
nor can you contain yourself
in my wordshells.

There is nothing Platonic about it
when you spelunk me.

© 2011, Eric Berg


2 thoughts on “Plato Goes on a Date

  1. Echo’s of a splash wash over my beard. Frothy milk chocolate from a steaming pot jumps off my whiskers and back into the cup. The cafeteria has grown quiet, as the Caffeine addicts buy their daily supply. Starbucks is a place full of the elite. Hipsters, intellectuals, writers.

    As I indulge, something happens to me, on my screen. “Plato Goes on a Date”, and something platonic overcomes me, as the poem, spiritually graces her hand over my cheek, and seals it, with a kiss.

    I am obscurity, revealed. I am my masters servant, carved in his image. My purpose is clear. This hot chocolate is way too hot, over priced, and not chocolaty enough. I am going on a date with existence.

    Thank You Plato.

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