This morning, with her, having coffee. We sat, settled ‘n laughed, about as mildly wild as can be. Treasured our teensy little cardboard cutout instruments as she nibbled from the corners like a pretty little mouse. My mouse. My everything precious, and telling me all of these wishful thinking things. I hunched over and caressed her warm forehead with mine – the sun stole a part of the whole show too that day, it did indeed. “Why can’t we travel? Make paper airplanes in the rain, watch other versions of us catch teenage fire – youthful by design and about as heavenly love-struck as any couple can care to be.” I tell her I’m thinking and it certainly doesn’t compete with seeing… her dimpled, curvature upturned everything. She caught my attention, caught quickfire flame for all of an sunsprayed afternoon and turned it into a thousand upon thousand full moons.
“When I do smile, be assured, it is you who I am thinking of.” And my cigarette catches equally desirable flame.