Don’t Double-Boom
“Yes, I’d love to,” I
replied,
one warm October morning,
thinking “He’s just my type.”
Autumn gave it up for a
winter
wherein we wore penguins on
our chests. Mine, slightly hairy
and mostly grey. Yours, smooth
as a wet whistle. Back home, we
poured colorful gumdrops into
a
tiny Spanish bowl. “Hola, señor-
ita!”
he’d smile as he’d say.
“Would
you like a gumdrop?”
To which
I’d reply, “Always!” –
not
knowing any Spanish.
“Forever
is a mighty long
time,”
we’d both think. How
alarmed
we would have been
to know
during those faraway
moments that,
even then,
such
synchronicity already
existed
between the two of us.
