March 5, 2024

someone will say yes

At the coffee shop, taking frenetic gulps of dark roast and pulverizing 
a raspberry muffin, you’ll unfold the wrinkled notepaper of an idea,
scratch the margins with your strange math, imagine an improbable story 
on the other side of your current reality. The plate will pile with stiff crumbs, 
the cup will bottom out, and soon it will be time to rise out of your sweet 
scene and pull the kickstand up. Here’s what I want you to know: someone
will notice your scribbling, drag a chair to your table, uncap their own pen. 
Someone will match your wide-eyed wonder, their pupils punctuation 
marks landing the sentence hovering mid-air. Someone will say yes, 
and yes again, and more yes. But only if you ask.