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September 20, 2007
A poem which never got finished:

When we first met, I knew that you'd be trouble.
I also knew that you'd be worth the cost.
You blew a kiss, I blew a rainbow bubble;
You caught it in your hand, and I was lost.

You seemed quite strange, and yet not quite a stranger...


I think it stayed incomplete because whatever I tried to do with it felt as if I was forcing it into a shape it didn't want to take. The perilous, magical stranger resisted definition, and I had no words to convey my longing for...him?...her?