Wow, “Missed Connections” on Craig’s List is picking up. Love is in the air, people!

Just a few of the most notable cries for help:

To My Bus Driver - m4m - 20

I hate it when you wear those blue reflective sunglasses - it completely hides your gorgeous blue eyes. I tried slipping you my number that one time - but I don’t think it worked. Are you not into guys - or just not into me? Either way - take it as a compliment - I think you’re HOT.

Karaoke Kween

There we were, at the bar. Karaoke night. You were so beautiful, you look like you could be the daughter of John Travolta. Our eyes connected more than once. Did you feel what I felt?

My Ganimide…

Tonight, our eyes locked and I knew it was love at first sight. Somehow, I feel like I know you from somewhere, like some forgotten realm of the universe where unicorns roam and theives run wild. Will you be my rougue? xoxo Inara

Bitchy Girl Who Tells Lies

Yeah, you. Fucking lying bitch. Had your fun?
You’re why I can’t stand women.

To the woman applying makeup on the Redline today at noon - w4w

1) Pumping your mascara wand introduces air into the tube, which makes your $30 mascara dry out really fast. 2) Using a METAL eyelash comb on the subway is a tragedy waiting to happen. Can’t you do your makeup at home? Or in the bathroom of wherever you’re going?

And finally, a poem (”Missed Connection” poetry is definitely not to be missed, people):

My beloved Tracy - m4w

They tell me you have died
But I don’t believe it, nor do I care
We will always be together

I feel so alive as I penetrate your sex
I can almost hear your moans of lust
I don’t think you are deceased
As I part your lips and feast
The way you smell
Is more delightful than ever
Again and again we consummate our love
Again and again you bring me to ecstasy
I feel you with my lust
You, you, you take it all

I revel in the touch of your flesh
To become one
Warm and cold skin joining again
And again to my desires I will succumb

I don’t care if you’re alive or dead
Lovingly your body I embrace
Your rotten lips still give head
I spill forth my love onto your rotting face

I hear them call me things
Which I don’t understand
But I don’t care what they will say
Your body belongs to me
To carry out my lusts
As I gaze upon your rotting face

(A Boston Baudelaire is born!)