Feels Like Spring This Fall
I feel the affection of a new lover upon me.
It feels like a symphony.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on you,” he texts.
He’s said it twice.
But it feels like five times.
When he says it, I feel a bolt through my heart
— a shiver on my skin.
A giddy chill.
It’s been a minute since I felt a chill like this — one that comes from a deep-seated sense of a probable promise for more.
I feel his intention settle on my spirit. He sees me.
He says my name.
When someone follows the trail of me like this —
I pay attention.
I told him I write.
He asked to read my stuff.
I sent him two articles from Medium, warning him, “You can only read three articles per month, if yer not a member.”
An hour later, he texts, “I subscribed to Medium so I could keep reading.”
And then five minutes later,
“I haven’t met anyone like you before.
You are honest.
And I’ve literally never encountered it before.”
I wanna be your first.
He’s coming over for pizza tonight. Actually, he’s coming over for sex. We are going out for pizza, first.
This’ll allow the tension to build — to be boy-girl on a date, to catch up after a week apart, and to enjoy the warmth of being two people hot for each other, in a crowded diner.
It will be our third date.
Our second date was last Saturday. I said to him spontaneously at 2 pm last Saturday, “Do you wanna come over and play guitar and sing?”
“I’d love to,” he texted.
This was after I had told him on Friday, the day before — when he asked me if we could get together again that weekend — that I needed the whole weekend to myself.