This is for Micah -

I know you expected this letter a long time ago. Like maybe in the late 90's. But you know me. Late in everything. School. Blooming. Getting clues. And in coorespondence. You'll have to forgive me, then, for my tardiness. It's just that it's taken me a long time to get these words just right.

Not that I've ever have any trouble with words and you before. You've been the easiest person I've ever had the pleasure of oratizing to. You've heard more speeches, more philosophy, more stand-up, than anyone else on this God-green earth. Words aren't the problem. I can't shut up enough, as you've pointed out. But getting the right words out, aye, there's the rub.

So don't fret, and don't get down. I promise this won't take long. Only short thoughts and short stories for me, remember. My attention span is usually measured by an hour glass. Maybe half. So here goes. And remember, please... this is only a test. If this had been an actual emergency, this following message would be followed by a beep.

This is only a test.


For Micah,

How do you do, love? Love, a splendid word; can silence a crowded room, bring a tear to the dryest eye, make the insides of a person turn and twist like a wet rag seeking to be dried.

No, I do not think you're a wet rag.

But I do think you're swell. Cool. Approachable. Sincere. Funny. God, you're funny. I don't know how the wind blows in your mind, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did cartwheels in mid-air, and sommersaults over mountains. Your thoughts are skewered like shishkabobs; a pretty red thought followed by a yellow one. All sorts of flavors, and they're tasty in lime. No, I'm not hungry, either, just stating facts, ma'am.

I like you. You're my kind of girl. Have I ever said that to you? I mean, really say that? I might have hinted at it. Maybe insinuated it. My speech sometimes has levels so deep dinosaurs can be found through enough digging. I can be more subtle than an ant crawling over a shoe you're not wearing. You don't know it's there, and frankly, you don't care. So let me be blunt, Micah: you're my kind of girl.

That would be: the kind of girl I dream about. Don't gush, you're not a fountain, I don't need water. Listen up: the kind of girl I dream about. Smart. Check (you don't just argue with me, you make me think and earn my hard-earned losses). Caring (even if you are stingy with the radio station in the car). Funny (did I mention that already. Sometimes I've thought to myself what I'd do if I were the only person who thought the way I do. Then I think of me in Antartica, living alone in an igloo. Then I think, man, I'm thinking of some weird stuff today). Positive (you even make me believe that I could finish what I start. Wow). And you smell nice too (well, you do.).

And that's it. Girl of my dreams. At least most of the time. Occasionally she has long dark brown hair, and looks like this model I saw once, and she's pretty naked, but that's only occasionally so let's forget that.

And let's recall you. I wouldn't know what I would do without you. You're like my water purifier. And how did I ever get along without you? Probably drinking dirty water, that's how.

I feel clean now. Pure. Hopeful. Look at that. I'm using nice words now.

I'm not gushing, am I? I don't want to be a fountain either. But I'm pouring out, aren't I?

All this and more, and all I had to do was scare the beegezus out of myself. Meeting you scared the daylights AND night out of me. Like walking on eggshells, broken glass, and boa constrictors with bare, bloody feet.

I guess I was slightly nervous. You made my heart sail, and not in a good way.

I swallowed my pride, my ego, my self-esteem, 3 pints of air and a piece of lung before I even talked to you. Explains the dry mouth.

I racked my head harder than any test I've ever taken. They were easy. All of them, compared to you. I didn't want to fail. I didn't want to fail.

I would have passed out, should have, from the lack of blood reaching my brain. Somehow it stopped coming from my heart; my guess was it got caught somewhere around my neck. Explains why I was so tense, then.

But I didn't pass out. Cause you were cool. Like this was nothing for you. Just a good old time, watching my heart explode. Which almost did but didn't. Cause you were cool and calm and somehow lowered my heartbeat to match yours. Sychronocity. Our internal watches ticking at the same time. That was my first taste of being cool like Micah.

And the rest, they say, is history.

You've only got yourself to blame, for all this mess. No one to complain to, or demand explanations from, other than yourself. I warned you. Said I was going to do something for you, about you.

If you're surprised now, and gushing, well, don't look at me, I'm only the messenger. It's that guy's fault, over there.

But I have a feeling this is all going over pretty well.

You're cool like that, you know.



And there you have it. Starred and everything. A little late but I'm going in for some extra credit.

Hope you're having fun in Happy Valley. The sunshine's been good over here. Except when it's been cold and then I just stay in, and let the sun and wind fight it out.

When weather's come to blows, I take shelter till someone's happy and wins. I don't like stepping into anyone's business.

Take care, Micah. Hope the spring and summer time is good to you. Enjoy the sun. But stay chill.

And remember, this is only a test.