Kismet OR Mmh.. I don't know, maybe, yeah, a love poem, kinda, okay.

A visitor from the shtetyl
Spews stories of a struggling salubrious soul
Sick of syncophants, sweltering sweat, and his own song
He sings, supporting the sounds of others
Soon, maybe Saturday, he sets out to seek
Some synergy
Some symmetry
Some.. something
To soothe his sorrow
Or rather
To save, set free
His slightly shattered spirit
Suffocated by years of
Suppressed pseudo-securities
Of a supposed-to life of
Suburbia, stock-options and structure

He sends himself
Stamped and starry
To San Fernando
And suffers some setbacks
A shrinking violet among sunflowers

He steadies himself
Shapes himself
Swims lengths and widths
Swallows swigs of smooth spirits
Sheds his skin
Shatters speeds
Sleeps (late) and sometimes soundly

She writes him
Seven or so shtetyls east
Seeking her own salvation
Shattered in places
Shiny in others
She sees
Herself..in him
This visitor from a valley
Vociferously vocal
Collectively calming
Wondrously whimsical
An insatiable stew
Of story, sex, sweetness, suspense, shyness, stimuli, with a sprinkle of
Separation and fear.