My Love for You: Part One

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When Gertrude Stein said, “A rose is a rose is a rose”. She was only half right. I am deeply, profoundly and possibly in love with you; in fact, I would die for you… I would die twice for you. I wouldn’t die three times for you because people would stop taking me seriously. Your every movement is a symphony. Your every word a novel. Your every gesture a Bazooka Joe comic. I think of you almost always. I think of you while I write this. Elephants have big ears. Oops, I stopped thinking about you for a second, but I’m back now… and absence makes the heart grow flounder… although I may have misheard that one. I want to build a temple to your beauty but I cannot find a site I can afford that has decent parking nearby. I want to put you on a magic carpet… one that never loses its pile and stains just lift right out. I want to lie on my back with you and make snow-angels… preferably in the snow; otherwise, we both might look ridiculous. I want to kiss you from head to toe, provided you’ve bathed recently because NO ONE WANTS TRENCH-MOUTH. I want to hold you in my arms until your urge to flee has passed. I want to hear everything that is inside your heart; barring that, I’d gladly listen to your gall bladder or liver. I want to fight for you… assuming I am sufficiently liquored up. I want to dance with you ’til the cows come home; then, I want to milk those cows and make you a flan… a delicious caramel flan; and, if you don’t like flan, well… just forget it, then…

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