The thought of you has besieged my intellect with recurring force. It tugs at me, rolls over in me. I slip through moments to escape you. My efforts as futile as Sisyphus attempting to avoid his stone. If I could alter my memories to find peace, I would. Logic intervenes occasionally, tempting me with the reality of the moment. I listen briefly to that inner voice until the anxiety of past opportunity screams throughout my exhausted mind, like wind in Moab. I toss, pull the pillow over my head and close the windows of my soul tight. Wait. Wait for the draft to creep in again and the pillow to become an uncomfortable burden.

A year ago, you took my belongings for storage. I was leaving for Asia and you were kind enough to offer a shed. I shouted funny things up to my window as you sat there with the bean. We didn't know then how far we would go.

Traveling, I found you in the color blue. I kept a transparent piece of light blue seaglass as a reminder in the dip under my adams apple. I held tight to you atop speeding boats in the Andaman Sea and the Gulf of Thailand. The ocean blue stretching over the horizon, pierced sporadically by jutting limestone peaks. These little islands were surrounded by brilliant reefs that glowed under the water. I felt mystic there. I don't know if you could have understood. How can the ocean understand those limestone islands? The ocean is ever mysterious and moving, not yearning for a stoic certainty of emotion. The limestone islands muffled my pleas. I knew you were far away, but I shouted at the splashing tide and hoped it would carry my message to you thru a shell you might someday hold to your ear.

With warm sun drying sea salt on my tan skin, I would roll and dream in the granules. I yearned like Otis Redding to hold you just once. How presumptuous of me to think your heart might flutter and swoon like mine. My sensitive nature assures me that dispite the disparage of logic, she/you might know exactly how I feel. Just a hunch.

I prayed for chance meetings and would day dream about the words I might say. Such a dubious feat considering my feelings I had toward you. HA! I thought I might; jump up and down, or pretend that I had been looking for you and you were right at that spot the whole time.
Your amused wonder of me intrigued me. You sat through countless digressions of my psyche and remained so lovely. How silly I must have been chopping garlic and shallots for dinner in my wedge of a kitchen. I was the hoopty food network guy. You came into my kitchen and I pushed a handful of sprouts, doused in pepper and red wine into your mouth and your hips pushed against me. We between the fridge and the wall with seven layers of paint.

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