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— and it’s been awhile since I wanted something like this:

mornings talking about nothing, afternoons expanding

and golden-hazy in the back of bookstores with you,

blurry evening drives with the radio rivering on and on

until the end of forever. Something more than immediacy.

I don’t even know what kind of music you like,

if you dream to Mozart or Beethoven or silence,

what color makes you light up, how you take your tea,

all I know is the way you talk is a music unto itself,

waves cradling the shore. All I know is you sound

a little like water and a lot like harbors, like a…


Arlen C.

Reader, writer, dreamer. I would be delighted to send you little letters: https://tinyletter.com/arlenc.