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Meanings
What does it mean to be loved?
For years a feigned understanding,
until a clear summer night in early August.
I was bored. I was hungry.
I really wanted garlic bread.
She really wanted garlic bread.
So I made some frozen garlic bread
and pasta with sauce that was far too acidic
and we sat on the driveway
just us
the neighborhood cats
and the streetlights above,
until we moved into the night-
just two weary souls and the sky.
And we laid on the pavement
watching the stars
and the stars watched us
make easy conversion about nothing at all
and the perseids waved a hello as they passed by
to two tired teenagers
who understood they were loved.
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She'll know this is about her once she sees it, and I think that's okay. Just a quick narrative about what I think summer should be- spontaneous, simple, and full of easy joy.