my dearest e.e.cummings,

i love you inside-outside paranthesis

you make me a weak-kneed tildy when i

backspace, enter, enter, into the past where i thought was devoid of you

i wasn’t, you were the vast return and i have always loved you and

the black asterisks in your sleepy afternoon eyes as i tab you back over to your side of the blanket

that we laid somewhere between the plus sign trees

under the at-sign sun the day that the space between us deleted

and our intertwined shoelaces dancing thru quotation marks

while i insert ellipses between our kisses to make them last longer than 6 ½ inches

(oh how those 1 inch margins have cheated us)

because time is the semi-colon in my heart when we are not together period.