"What does that feel like?" she asked.
We were talking about being in love. True love.

She was a pretty girl, with a big dog, who was curled up at my feet.
She'd gotten out of her Volvo,
barefoot, long hair loose
her femininity showing through her thin cotton t-shirt
While I was sitting at a roadside crossing
reclining against my backpack
boots off
eating trail mix and jerky
and thinking about the coming rain

Over the next few days, we crossed paths several times
She said she was trying to make it to the North Carolina border and back over the weekend
But I met her coming back the other direction, and she kept showing up
like she couldn't make up her mind
And we talked

I should probably have been hitting on her
It felt like that's what she wanted
But instead, we ended up talking about You.

"When she walks by," I answered,
"I see sparkly fairy-trails behind her.
When she's in the same room,
I hear a faint hum, just below the silence,
like angels' music.
When she's in the same building,
I feel a warm glow in my chest,
like opium.
Just knowing that she is in the world,
even if I never see her again,
makes me see it as a brighter, more beautiful place,
And loving her
makes me love everyone else more."