When I first met you,
it was summertime. Not summer in the sense of seasons, or weather, or the tilt of the earth. It was mid-February, the dullest of all the months... The paradoxically shortest and longest. I was almost too caught up in being as grey as the slush beneath my feet to see you. In hindsight, I don't know how I could have missed you. Laying my eyes on you was like the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy woke up in a rainbow. I woke up in your eyes. In each case, the color was unprecedented. I was overcome with this evangelical zeal. Looking at you is a summer night, driving with the windows down, doing everything, yet nothing at all. Laughing. Living. When I first met you, the slush melted. The clouds parted. Winter became summer. You became part of me. And I melted, too.
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September 2016
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