Sam Hendrian is a Los Angeles-based filmmaker and poet striving to foster empathy through art. Every Sunday, he writes personalized poems for passersby outside of Chevalier’s Books, LA’s oldest independent bookstore. You can find his poetry and film links on Instagram at @samhendrian143.
Nudist Colony for Ring Fingers
Glanced up at the ceiling
In the way a person does
When they hear their favorite song
On the coffee shop radio.
A purer form of temporary relief
Than food or mood-enhancing drugs,
The flash of a flashback smile
Radiating a room full of anti-adulting adults.
She figured her life would be over
As soon as she started dating
So she ironed her eyes with “Maybe”
And did not dare let them grow wrinkled.
There must be a nudist colony for ring fingers,
A place of connection for the purposefully disconnected
Who celebrate their independence
One closeted tear at a time.
Occasionally compensated with a public park or crowded hallway
But always wound up wondering what the point was
Since everyone was trained to instantly crop out
Evidence of human company.
Sometimes the only voice she heard all day
Was the elevator saying “Going up”
Which tempted her to go back down
Just to continue the conversation.
Rouge-Cheeked Wish
A litter of kittens meowed to canonize
Janitor Jan, hero of the strip mall
Whose hunched-over stance and trance-prone eyes
Were camouflaged by the trash cans and vending machines.
Heard her phone vibrate and took it out
Then ignored the message as if to say
I’m getting used to you being gone
While you’re still here.
Sympathetic Sandy almost tossed her a buck
Like she would a leftovers-loaded homeless man
Before remembering that charity
Implied a power disparity.
And she certainly wasn’t more powerful
Whistling “Someone to Watch Over Me”
As she gazed at the local liquor store,
The fragile fabric of a fading fantasy.
Went to dinner then to lunch,
Hospice then the infant ward
Figuring backwards motion
Might lighten the plight of moving forwards.
Caught a sunset glimpse of Janitor Jan
Mopping up vomit between Chili’s and Tillys
And immediately echoed her rouge-cheeked wish
To look invisible but feel seen.
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