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Tanzanite Just when you think it will rain forever. That you’ll never see the sun again. A small accident of wonderful happens. Hot glazed doughnuts fall out of the sky. She wore blue boots. A diamond stud in her perfect nose. And a ring the color of a cautionary tale. Naturally— she was blonde. An uncomplicated spark leapt between us. Like something out of an IKEA box. Only a fool believes in love at first sight. A wise man needs an hour in an airport bar. I slipped a dime into the dark slot of her cleavage. And tugged gently on her red lacquered finger. She guessed my weight and read my fortune. Looked into me like an x-ray machine. The problem with airplanes is they fly away. She kissed me on both cheeks like a French girl. Then disappeared into jet fumes and freezing rain. A vapor trail of possibility or pipe dream. The next day I climbed a windmill. Like a Portuguese sailor in the rigging. I scribbled a message onto a cocktail napkin. And stuffed it into a bottle. Then I pitched it into the desert sea. It arced like a golden comet. And splashed into the sand and sage. Throwing sparks of Tanzanite. The color of her boots.
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Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
Tanzanite
Tanzanite Just when you think it will rain forever. That you’ll never see the sun again. A small accident of wonderful happens. Hot glazed doughnuts fall out of the sky. She wore blue boots. A diamond stud in her perfect nose. And a ring the color of a cautionary tale. Naturally— she was blonde. An uncomplicated spark leapt between us. Like something out of an IKEA box. Only a fool believes in love at first sight. A wise man needs an hour in an airport bar. I slipped a dime into the dark slot of her cleavage. And tugged gently on her red lacquered finger. She guessed my weight and read my fortune. Looked into me like an x-ray machine. The problem with airplanes is they fly away. She kissed me on both cheeks like a French girl. Then disappeared into jet fumes and freezing rain. A vapor trail of possibility or pipe dream. The next day I climbed a windmill. Like a Portuguese sailor in the rigging. I scribbled a message onto a cocktail napkin. And stuffed it into a bottle. Then I pitched it into the desert sea. It arced like a golden comet. And splashed into the sand and sage. Throwing sparks of Tanzanite. The color of her boots.
Written by
Eugene, Or.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
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