Taco Bell, a Three-Legged Dog, and the Simplicity of Love

Lauren Canaday   

Maybe sometimes it happens

when the crescent moon

kisses the sea-covered horizon,

the breeze caressing your fairytale faces

in that opportune instant.

Maybe sometimes it happens

when music saunters past

with clandestine objectives,

and two pairs of lonely eyes become

diamonds as they meet across the room.

And I guess sometimes it happens

when some divinely beautiful good girl

happens upon some

changeable, pleasantly cunning,

bad boy,

as they fall in love and

revolutionize their lives.

 

On the other hand,

I know that sometimes

it happens in a dorm room

smelling of burnt Kraft Mac n Cheese,

an empty Taco Bell

with sopping, gray floors,

a small-town merry-go-round

where nearby a three-legged dog barked,

and a dim room and a scary movie

where nothing else mattered

but the fact that you had grabbed my hand

for the very first time.

 

Now I know that sometimes

there is not some great change

that sweeps over ones entire life.

Sometimes there is no

 vast moment when you realize

what exactly is occurring.

Sometimes it just feels like

a part of you is now fully realized,

and all you want to do

is hear this unexpected love before you

talk about that embarrassing moment

when he puked in science class,

laughing more than you ever have,

cheeks sore from your permanent smile.

 

Sometimes, it seems,

not much changes

when you fall in love-

you only,

together,

become better at being you.

 

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