"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Sunday, April 10, 2022

Again, in summer

Day 10 of NaPoWriMo. Today's prompt is to write a love poem. I had this simile pop into my head, and then it felt right to keep it rather simple today.
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And there, together, upon the hood of a hand-me-down sedan
staring at the stars, all at once the separate threads begin to twist

into a muddling of quick-sparking wires, inexplicably convoluted,
like a pair of headphones crammed carelessly into a coat pocket.

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