Message 1

Today, I wondered
whether you like to cook.
I wrote "cook" on the side of my hand
so I would remember to ask you about it.
I've never been so genuinely interested
in someone before. Not like that.

I imagine the answer will be no,
but you might surprise me.
Either way,
now I have this strange little scene in my head
of surprising you with a nice dinner
one black night
in a dim little apartment
with orange streetlights and December
reaching through the windows.
You'd be tired
and you'd open the door like home,
and I'd have a pan of the world's best three-cheese macaroni
in an oven-mitted hand,
the smell of it filling the room,
and I would glance at you over my shoulder,
so obviously glad to see you it was pathetic.

I can't explain what the look on your face
at that moment
would do to me.
Very good things.

A selfish little fantasy, isn't it? -
so traditionally feminine I'm surprised it's mine.
But the thought of doing nice things for you
makes me warm,
and I'm not used to that,
so I needed to get it out.
Take from that what you will.



~

Age when written: 16