Our Lady of Perpetual Astonishment

they call it drop. falling after floating. we’re better animals when free, just so. this one left not a whiff for me to smell in his wake. ghosts are all around these days. no trace but ache. somehow not better: a hand-written letter of fresh future promises in brilliant prose. oh, how I fall for them both. couplings superb in both romance and brevity. each its own beautiful terror. just so, these roman candle loves, “and everybody goes, ‘Awww!’”