A novel in verse … and the writing thereof
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Playing like Idiots

Just after the kisses

we headed up the mountain,

hiking the wooded trails, splashing each other in the creeks,

and oh, behaving more like eight year olds

than I had, ever, in my life.

He made me slow way down to sneak up on

     the bear ahead, and when I found him out

–there was no bear–

he whooped and ran. Not far; before long I had him

pinned against a tree, where

     we kissed. We wore ourselves out with

     such nonsense.

As we hiked back down to the borrowed car, he

looked me over, nodded approvingly, and said

he was glad to see

that I was strong, as a ranchman’s wife

had to be strong; it was not an easy life.

“Uh huh. So this was all about

     checking me out, to see

               if I was worthy?”

He looked at me blankly. “Well, you don’t think

     I was out here

     for the fun of it, do you?”

At that, I sprang for him again, and with

     a great whoop he was off, springing

     down the trail. I careened down

after him, but he was

suddenly gone. As I whipped round a turn

he jumped out from behind a tree and swept me up,

whirling me around until

     we both collapsed, breathless, and lay there,

side by side, laughing.

“I have to say,” I said, “I’ve never had a date

     quite like this, before.”

“I aim to be different.” He scrambled up and

     offered me a hand.

“If that’s your goal, you can count yourself

     a success.”

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