First Hello

He was just the one for me.  A handshake, a first
smile, sly, mysterious, secret.  I was not looking
for anyone else, having only recently unearthed
myself.  He pretended to be interested in
such intimate archeology.  We both liked
wine and music and walks in the park and kissing.  But
after a while I did it again.  (I found myself
thinking of love and him in the same
sentence.  It was enough to make you write
a poem.)  And then he did what must
scare him to death.  (He thought of intimacy and
him in the same sentence.  It was enough to make
you take off running.)  I think he could win
a marathon at his age, just as long as he made
sure to think about emotional intimacy
as he ran.  It somehow seems to give him added
speed when fleeing.