a low
grade kind of crush
a calm
admiration
that
what love is?
a thing
a
something
a
something simmering and sensible
not the
brutal heat
of the
sun's surface
not even
the car seat
in July
but the
noncommittal warmth of
a March
puddle
once and
future rain
bearing
witness to
spring
bursting winter's seams
heat
screams
but
there is further terror
in
ambiguity
the
panic behind caution
undeniable
in a way
thrilling
in another
it's
emotional xenophobia
there is
fun
in this
gentle setting
a drop
of familiar extract
some
cageyness
and
glances
maybe
one or two that linger
while
four eyes ask
will
you be the first to take off your sweater?
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