How They Met

he is my love song as much
as anyone can be.

there is
room for me to sing about the two of us
tangled up in blue under a pink pink pink
pink moon.

you could be
the leaf that never falls from the tree
you could be
the sun that never leaves the sky
this might be
the happy ending without the ending
this might be
a reason to try

Look, interests aren’t things that can be listed. My interests are impulses, are moods, are neverending.

It’s not the easy things that let you get to know a person.

Know, and love.

“Well, there’s something about the stars that makes you realize both the smallness and the enormity of everything, isn’t there?”

I said yes. And then I told her that I thought single was a stupid term. It made it sound like you were unattached to anyone, unconnected to anything. I preferred the term singular. As in individual.

I was just rejecting the package in which it was being sold to me. I was going to say it was okay to be alone, when it felt like everyone in the world was saying that it wasn’t okay to be alone, that I had to always want someone else, that the desire had to fuel me.

It doesn’t have to be on Valentine’s Day. It doesn’t have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn’t have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn’t have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date.

It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit.

It just has to be.

Every two people cause an intersection.

Every person alters the world.