April 3, 2009

". . . what else do you love?" Part 2

I love the first real day of spring,
when everything finally fills its lungs all the way,
when the sun stops playing coy at last
and warmth comes naturally as laughter.

I love coffee shops that have an empty table,
even if there is a franchise name over the door,
lingering there, leaving lipstick on a paper cup
and my doodles on a napkin.

I love used book shops,
the held breath of untold, unidentified fingerprints,
the soft rub of grainy old paper,
the surprising curves of out-dated fonts.

I love park benches,
peeling islands in an ocean of haste,
careless evidence of past occupants lightly strewn underneath,
and my own temporary presence merely evidence of itself.

I love my notebook and pens,
the magic of the flowing line,
the creamy anticipation of an empty page,
the heavy, swollen silence of filled ones.

I love being able
to say how much
I love.

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