My mirror gets me....

''I shouldn't have met you. I met you, I liked the smiles a little too much and now I can't get you out of my head. You're intoxicating, and am drunk, am high with your hi.....''

Scratch that......

''Am dumb, and I know....''

Scratch that.... This is going to be harder than I expected. Maybe I should buy chocolates and let them talk on my behalf, I heard chocolates and girls are mostly on the level. This thing with words, choosing the right words to explain something I least understand.... Okay here goes nothing.

''The whiplash of living at once what I had been awaiting for years, the sheer disbelief at finding happiness in this world, had reduced the pleasures to a series of luminous moments, discrete and without measure, like so many fireflies, beaming and vanishing in an instant.''

Okay, I got to admit I stole that. Am reading poetry now, what has become of me? Whatever happened to my balls? She's walking in the house and flipping the switches, on and off,off and on, turned down low, changing the color bulbs, circling above us like smoke, like a ghost......she's driving me out of my mind.

What do I want from her except for us to do nothing? For her to just be, for us to just be. The old terrible magic coalesce into the air, hold her hand, walk on the beach, fish and sail....that's it, that's definately it, fish and sail and barbeque at the beach is what I want to do. I want to put my hands on her as a trial, just as a test. I want to put a hand on her face or on her arm because I think that if I did that, I would be so happy. I just want to feel her skin and I want to get at the soul underneath that muscle because I could smell it. But I bury these things in my heart.

I stand on the mirror and practice. I choose all the right words, create the perfect scenarios, pre-empt her answers. I recite poetry and practice emotions but I know it will all come crashing down once she flashes that smile. But still, I practice.