Clouds and Swallows.

Up front,

This post is about you,

Pale Blue Eyes.

(You've got some of the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.)

((I got a little lost in the today))

It's about you, because you

Are the reason I was singing loudly and off-key

In my car in the grey, grey afternoon.

You're the reason.

For a lot of things.

Good things.

We snicker and chortle.

You've got a funny laugh,

And I like it a lot.

Words are sometimes fickle things,

Like now.

I'd like to say a bunch of lovely, beautiful things about you.

But I can't figure out how.

And you can't figure out how I write what I do.

You can't recall what a somnambulist is.

(Which I found slightly humorous and then I explained it to you, latin-wise)

We have the same posture sometimes,

And I know one of your favorite movies.

I'd like to see it.

I'm going to read the book sometime, too.

We stood and talked and talked.

You said something.

I replied overeagerly,

You laughed.

It was lovely.

Oddly,

I had a long moment of possibility.

There is no reason we could not be together

(Besides the obvious ones)

I like that.

The obvious barricades

But beyond that

It could work.

Let's someday get beyond that.

I'll write you poems when I am in college

At Columbia, and I will mail them to you,

Old-fashioned-like,

It'll be swell.

That horribly wonderful feeling

You evoke is sickening.

There's too much of it circulating in my veins

And I'm the strangest sort of low-high.

It's wonderful.

You're wonderful.

And yes, you all everybody,

You're wonderful too.

(By the way, I'm horribly afraid of dreaming about you tonight.)