By Madison
Date: 19 March 2001

electronic mail@usa.net

It's late. 
I'm thinking of you. 
I was about to go to bed 
and thought it would be good 
to say these things.   
There are conversations, 
day to day, 
intermittent convergences
of people meeting people,
dynamics.  
Dynamics that never 
zing like full circuit
switches thrown 
electrifying 
the way it feels 
riding down 
the middle of the 
island with you.  
Laughing and talking.  
Music on tapes
in a cd’less grandpa van.
Was it island magic 
juju soup 
stirred with a wizard wand.
Or a spell that had 
little to do 
with either of us, 
like the song, coincidence?

Coincidence.
Lightweight haps and mishaps
things that turn up 
all day every day, 
things paid little
notice.  We'll know 
when we're together again.  
I will finish this another time.  
We will.
I can't explain 
all I'm thinking.  
But if I don't 
send this now, simply because 
I don't understand it?  
I'd rather you 
know that I'm thinking 
about it and that 
I don't have any answers (duh) than 
for you to think I never 
thought it out at all.

All I know:  
I want to see you again.
I want your arms around me.
I want to laugh with you.

That's all I know.  



18 mar 01