I met her in the city, quite a surprise, but I like talent and approached. In those first, brittle minutes I told her truth without exception. I explained why she is striking to me. I declared the influence she masters from recordings and felt the timbre of excess as I called her reality fiction, and mine, unless we sit across from one another. Together the world has shadow, not apart. She must have snoozed as just an hour later we had cotton candy over our fingers and water to our ankles.
Her ghosts visited to wish us good luck. Two breezes flashing orange into our dimension. They held each other close in exemplary affection, their hearts in meld like the left hand around the right. She explained to me how special she feels just to be witness. In song she communicated her hope, to be half of something great, something strong and fertile. In lieu of a ring I stretched chewed Wrigley’s around her finger and wet her cheek. She swung her hand through the salty air, to catch breeze and harden the doublemint in place. Her ghosts set sail.