I love you like panes of glass shattering,
shouting “I Love You Forever” as shards separate.
I love you like an ox loves his master, who gives him purpose and sustains his life.
I love you as Jacob loved Rachel.
I love you like a snail who circled the Earth three times in search of a particular drop of moisture, and then found it.
I love you like a child loves his homework because mommy thinks he’s smart.
I love you like rainbows at night,
Like flowers in the rock,
Like a smile from abuela.
I love you like that stuffed little pig I had when I was three that I used to dress in my underwear.
I love that thin layer of sweat that is between us even when the air conditioning is on and the bedroom clock flashes how happy insomnia can be . . . and the cold tile between here and the bathroom sink stretches on for miles, just ten feet away from you.
I love you with gluttonous cravings,
With wisdom and joy.
With a relaxed excitement that burns and heals at the exact same rate.
Love like water on dry bones, like basil, like emerald stalks of pleasure embedded in the heart of joy, emanating a calming madness, a serendipitous pleasure. Your magnify the minute joy that flows through the physical and rushes toward the spirit.
Love is what I feel when you laugh for no reason and you mistake the reason for my perplexed expression. You believe I wonder why you are laughing but what really has me so puzzled is “How can I, who has known nothing but pain, whose body is trained for misery, how can I feel so good when you laugh? And how can I always feel this way? Because I want to.”