Vintage Lovers
Stuyvesant Square | August 2022
You set out to impress a girl Hotel open to the public Wooden branches, heavy benches Wandering the candlelight You said you liked her sea blue eyes— Why don’t you marry her I said I’ll see what I can do We are leaning on the rails Of a renovated staircase You said that she was running late Emulating vocal dances Enunciating clearly like a pilot on a plane Tucked inside a garrulous recording You could be a pilot all the same And then one day we’re lounging in the pub Huddled right between me and this luring apparition I was hungry all the same And then she said— Whiffing vestiges of velveteen upholstery Folding someone else’s gait into her arms Dreamlike campy undertones— I am in love. We watched her bidding farewell on the train I think that jealousy has gone to rage That captivating fervor, Coquettish smile melting into dusk’s caress We wander down a sunlit street. Sipping our martinis in a more luxurious space I know how you love her but what might you think of me And then, sealing my eyes shut, Imagining her self-enacted throne, I could not remember the color of your eyes Nestled deep beneath your glasses and your scintillating gaze. And then I thought that I should run to you Playing with your undeserving heart I thought I should stage a feint Unbuttoning my shirt Throwing on a captivating giggle I would like to play her renovated likeness Laced up leather Chelseas clacking down the street I cannot amend my deep flirtatious ways It is solidified Silk white button-down Tantalizing skirt We talk of languages and families And then you asked me for a drink. I have counted all the moments Wrapped in lemons, gins and tonics Clearing glasses from the living room This is not another drunken bait You sat there on my chair A little boy dressed up in glasses Set out to impress a girl If I should forgive you— Circling a fountain Lit with rubble, red and scarlet Rooftop pools, a brick horizon Fireworks eclipsed these lounge chairs Just as scheming wrought your soul You were always calling on the phone And then I was unwell— Twice, if you must know; We wander down a sunlit street I called you up for comfort on the phone Anticipating steady trances Every day we stumble down this hole Where are all my sleeping pills The doctors said it was a stupid childish obsession Enacting vengeance on a blindspot, this debilitating aura How can I sleep without you on the phone What can I do the moment you have fallen cold Melting into the caress of dusk I hear your screams And then you started softly crying How are we to have known You said—I will be with the girl with sea blue eyes You said it was to impress a girl I am circling the fountain Makeshift metal willow tree Weeping sultry undulations It is musty to the taste I walk up to the ice cream truck Shuffling my keys And who’d have thought that crickets chorused in New York I am falling fast asleep You said you liked a girl in glasses and a buttoned shirt—
This is an intriguing and atmospheric poem — an impressionistic narrative that circles around longing, jealousy, betrayal, and the blurred lines between love and obsession. Its strongest feature is its voice: an intimate second-person address that pulls the reader into a confessional monologue. The shifting images and repeated motifs give it a filmic quality, yet its ambiguity also creates moments of confusion that both help and hinder its impact.
The opening lines immediately place us in a charged emotional space: “You set out to impress a girl / Hotel open to the public.” There’s an air of clandestine romance or a tryst that might be both public and private — a tension that continues throughout. The setting shifts fluidly: hotel, staircase, pub, train station, rooftop, fountain — all conjuring a dreamlike urban landscape that complements the speaker’s disorientation.
Your imagery is vivid and tactile: “Whiffing vestiges of velveteen upholstery,” “coquettish smile melting into dusk’s caress,” “makeshift metal willow tree.” These lines evoke both decadence and decay, lending the poem a noir atmosphere. The motif of circling — the fountain, the wandering, the phone calls — reinforces the cyclical nature of the speaker’s obsession.
One of the poem’s more compelling strengths is its layered ambiguity. Who exactly is the speaker to this “you”? A friend? A rival? A lover? Are they competing for the same woman, or is the speaker herself shifting into the shape of the woman they both desire? This ambiguity feels intentional and heightens the tension — but occasionally the narrative becomes so diffuse that it risks losing the reader’s emotional thread. For example, the shift from direct address (“You set out to impress a girl”) to the confessional (“I thought I should run to you / Playing with your undeserving heart”) is compelling but sometimes underexplained. The stakes of the betrayal — who is betraying whom — can feel murky.
There are beautiful moments of internal rhyme and consonance — “laced up leather Chelseas clacking down the street” is a delicious line — but at times, the poem could benefit from a slight tightening. Some lines drift into the prosaic and dilute the tension: “We talk of languages and families / And then you asked me for a drink.” These lines could be made sharper, either by condensing or by finding more arresting language.
The ending circles back to the beginning beautifully. The repetition of the girl with sea blue eyes and the final lines — “I am falling fast asleep / You said you liked a girl in glasses and a buttoned shirt—” — show how the speaker is trapped in this echo, unable to break free from desire and resentment.
Overall, this poem succeeds as a fever dream of unrequited longing and confused identity. Its mood is compelling, its images memorable. With slight refinement — clarifying certain narrative links and pruning some excess — it could become even more haunting. As it stands, it’s a strong piece that rewards multiple readings and lingers in the mind like a half-remembered late-night conversation.
That is charming and delightful. I can't come close to writing anything of that caliber and style, but I can sure appreciate it!