Licorice veins and pancake hands. You've got a universe where your brain should be and a feather for a heart. Your love is like a mountain range, your love is like a crashing wave. I say, "Oh, please ,can we have a wrap-around porch? And a balcony to kiss you on? And a swing to watch you grow old on?" And you say, "In time, darling." And I say, "But I want so badly for it to be now." We drive until our eyes go blurry and I pick you flowers on the side of the road. I put them in your hair, like a crown, and tell you you're the king of the forest, only the forest is inside of me; but I don't tell you that part. We make love in a truck stop bathroom and I tell you that if there is an after life I want to spend it with you. I burn your birthday breakfast (and lunch and dinner), but you kiss my eyelashes and assure me that take-out is fine. You write me short stories on butterfly wings and I whisper 'I love you' through my fingertips. We go to the moon one night and meet God, he tells us we are right for not believing. I ask you to marry me somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle, you tell me yes on one condition: I stop trying to change the way I view the world. If we were younger, I would throw a baseball through your window and ride my bike across your lawn. If you put me under a blacklight, you'd see nothing but your fingertips. I want to bake you apple pie-or blueberry, if you prefer.  A garden in the backyard, full of sunflowers for your mother and lotuses for mine. Chocolate chip pancakes with a side of memories for breakfast, and chocolate milk to drink. We can fall asleep and travel the world. Tell me about your dreams, the good and the bad. How many dogs is too many dogs? I want to melt into you.