Alternate Greeting

August 22, 2013

C.,

It’s either the angel, the hero, or the redeemer—that’s how I wanted to imprint myself in your story, but that would be a fib of unnecessary machismo because right before I asked you out on that movie date eight years ago, I already had a hunch you were a strong and independent girl, and I was right.

In fact, I’ve always been the chair with a broken leg at the center of this well-lit room we’ve kept for ourselves, the illumination  at all times revealing a crippled image of myself. And you were there. You were always there, the omnipresent crutch to a shaky balancing act that threatened to tip toward lunacy and commune with the floor eventually as a loose end.

Today is a day of celebration. I celebrate you like I do the Beatles and the music I’ve grown up listening to. Or my pretense, which I announce to this world as poetry. Or this heart I shamelessly wear on a threadbare sleeve. Look! It has a patch with your name on it.

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