Treasure Island

Suzanna C Chevalier

(4-18-1966 / Elizabeth, New Jersey)


Maybe half Italian, maybe half English,
maybe you could not really miss,
his eyes where as blue as the abyss.
As he rode on his motorcycle through town,
Me watching, from restaurant in a blue gown.
Maybe not him, but what would I know?
He had on a blue t-shirt with letters that glow.
Maybe that was him in his white work truck,
wearing a grey t-shirt but he was all bunched up.
Maybe I saw him in a late night dream,
he told me to call him back in 2 weeks or so it seemed?
I dropped my phone in the toilet the next day,
had to replace it, what can I say?
Maybe he is out of the United States,
with the “love of his life”, going on dates.
Maybe he is doing just totally fine,
he is a millionaire now with money that shines.
Maybe he is just a cold robot on the other line,
maybe he’s not really real, maybe he’s sublime.
Maybe he’s really afraid of me and now super shy?
But wait, he dates a lot of girls all the time,
I haven’t seen him for a very long time—
Unless of course that was really him
I wrote about on the above lines.
If that is the case I need a new rhyme,
I’m not writing another poem about this Maybe Guy.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on October 14,2011

Submitted: Friday, May 17, 2013
Edited: Saturday, May 18, 2013

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