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April 18, 2007
I tossed my words into the ether to amuse myself like a fisherman with his sea shanties. To my delight they summoned you like gold washing up on the sand between my feet. Yet it's all just connect-the-dots in the air. I long for your presence, for the space there is no words for. I long for the connection where words become third wheels, where everything just is, hot breath from nostrils, lips lightly grazed on the curve of a neck, where I reach out and know you'll take my hand like I trust the ground will meet my feet.