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Am I drunk? Or are,
Oxytocin, dopamine
Coursing through my brain?
Shutting down so we can rest
Sweet R.E.M dreams.
When I look at you
My Occipital Lobe makes
My pupils dilate
When you talk to me
My Broca’s Area fails
And makes me so dumb
She doesn’t know she’s my future wife yet.
Also, the onion poems are all for her too.
I’m not creepy I promise.
Well, maybe she knows
We talk about our Advanced Care Directives a lot.
****** lesbians.
An onion can grow from a seed,
            From a tiny place and start its  life  
                                                   from the beginning,
                                                      ­                         to its end.

Or an onion  can grow from a broken piece of itself.  
           If it’s tended to carefully
                                and the conditions are favourable.
                                                                ­          And go on again

  To begin again.
When I told you
I had looked up the time of the sunset and the point that was scored when everyone cheered.
                       When we first kissed because I was sure
                        It was at the same moment.

You told me that
You had searched medical record for the date and time
Of the patient you saw
                      When we met that first time.
                      Because you needed to know.
Little by little your tiny hands
And soft cheeks, you're so close to me
Unravel into each other

Remembering the every day magic
Ernest and shy.
Nervous and happy.


Lovely alone time with you.
At last a moment together
You and a view, take me now.

Kisses so soft and gentle
Under the sun setting sky
Nearly sixty thousand people cheered for us
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