The Ballad of Lego Man: A Forbidden Love

PART I.

He saw her and knew.

There were no words, as he spoke not at all,

and she, reduced to gestures of hands and fingers

learned to speak with her eyes.

And they were full of a tenderness

so profound

he would have shed plastic tears

had he possessed the capability for emotional expression.

She saw him in a toy store,

a plastic Atlas holding up the Lego World display,

standing alone and strong 

among the cold and indifferent GI Joes and Barbies

who snickered ruthlessly behind stiff paddle hands

attached to bendable limbs.

The feel of her warm hand

in his plastic appendage

sealed their fate.

PART II.

The security guard's brow

lifted with questions

as the bell above the door jingled with her entrance.

Three months,

the same pattern--not a day

missed.

He yearned to speak to her of his dreams

of a life beyond the toy section,

to take her dancing,

to tell her he thought her

beautiful.

She so desired to show him

a world full of movement,

of warmth,

of sunlight after a

world lived under fluorescent bulbs.

And among the overflowing, colorful 

flower-beds of merchandise,

Their love grew.

Until--

That fateful day.

A flurry of hands grasped her arms,

pulled her screaming from his embrace,

Judgmental voices read her rights

as he looked on in horror.

Weeping, she was escorted from his world,

handcuffed and disgraced.

Had anyone looked back, they would have seen

a plastic hand outstretched,

and anguish etched in Lego eyes.

PART III.

She covered her eyes, shutting out

the searing white walls,

the padded corners, blinding lights,

the barren expanse of the room

that echoed the barren void of her heart.

Her mind drifted

to loving black painted eyes,

the solid reassurance of his breast,

the sheltered cage of his extended limbs

and the love she had known there.

A love so pure

it transcended flesh and plastic.

A sudden crash--

Alarms shattered the heavy silence,

drowning out the visceral screams of terror

muffled by the heavy padded door.

She sprang to her bare feet,

as the door blew off its hinges

and he shuffled stiffly in

with arms outstretched.

He lifted her.  And was lifted.

Something close to a heartbeat

thudding in his hollow plastic torso

as everything he'd ever desired or felt

came rushing back

in an instant.

The screams had died away.

The survivors, doctors, nurses, orderlies,

stood slack-jawed in wonder

as he emerged from the hospital room prison 

cradling his beloved.

His eyes spoke volumes--

were we able to understand,

we would have heard:

"Lego Men love, too."