the wonderful breeze that inhabits this
Indian summer day, that is at that exact
momentous
grazing & glancing upon our ****** cheeks, reveling in this unseasonable walking
warm day, is probably, (ha!)
very likely,
writing a poem on my suddenly
silent tongue,
at that exact second
so,
am forced to stop and kiss her fingers,
i n d i v i d u a l l y,
whispering “you know me to well!”

and herein
is the proof positive of the
power
of outrageous good fortune
>telling<
of:
woman’s intuition