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.
Good.
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.
“Anita.”
He listens.
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,
