The rumbling glee
the reluctance and falling face down, free.
Previous versions of me are there
right next to this newest and shiny identity.
She's lovely, she's thrilled, and basking in the glow
of adventures unfolding and moments of not-quite knowing.
Shit. I like you. Shit.
Forward, onward, yes.
Riding the wave, alive and alone.
The glee, this anticipation,
yet seated steady and embracing open ended
situations and people and
me and you and me and you and all of them.
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