YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SAY YES

to orchid centerpieces and crawling ivy
and space to dance. To heels with a crisp
click to them, a white lace A-line dress,
perhaps even some tulle, that perfect swing
of fabric when you dip me into moonlight.
You make me want to become acquainted
with champagne toasts and fine china,
my left hand sporting a heavier finger.
You make me want to I do myself
to death. I had never before pictured
becoming that kind of woman, that
specific breed of bold. But for you,
I do. You make me want to be that kind
of almost-summer afternoon, early June,
never lovelier. You make me want to meet
you at the end of every aisle— whether
it be church or grocery store or dilapidated
classroom building. I do I do I do.
Meet me there, will you? Meet me
at the intersection of now and always.
You make me want to say yes
to everything in-between.

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