Little Blue Light
from 2019 *** I'm lying on my couch at 6pm on a Friday night, watching the sun go down beyond my windows, which it took me months to realize were west-facing ones; I think I told you that before. No other plans tonight. I haven't seen you in weeks, but that's normal for us. We've been texting back and forth all week, and two weeks ago we spoke on the phone. When I daydream at night, I replay the sound of your voice. Pouring myself a new drink, I set it down gently and flop back onto my couch uninhibitedly to reread our conversation, reliving all the thrills and adding some trills around your inflections. I never analyze my own; I trust you got their intended meaning, buried like easter eggs for you to find when you reread them tonight. Hint: they're between the letters. They're the raised and lowered notes my phone couldn't send. Not yet, anyway. It's getting there. Soon, we'll be even closer. So when you ask me to marry you, I'll kno...