Olga Speaks the Truth (Working Title)

'Do you believe in love at first sight?' Vernon asked to her young friend.

Olga,a mere eleven years of age, replied, 'Why, of course!'

'Love stories are corrupt' whispered Vernon
in case cupid flew overhead, listening
aghast, mouth agape, at her
self inflicted self indulgent self centered
proclamation

love stories are corrupted by
the things we saw on TV yesterday
and the sappy romance dripping
song lyrics that
tickled our senses
from the radio in the car

the radio in the car
the car where we kissed
where we breathed heavily
and fogged up the windows
maybe in some cargo hold
in some titanic sized ship
in our self inflicted
self indulgent
self centered
corrupted love trip'

'But...' Olga argued, 'That's the beauty of it!  
The feeling is liquid like the red of blood oranges,
and I can’t explain it because I can’t wrap my mind around it
but it's never an accidental fascination,
the one that causes you to shake,
and it’s so intoxicating, like the crush of tangerine
that bursts between her lips and yours,

And it’s an orange explosion of wings from your stomach
out through her back as your eyes follow her across the
floor and you can do nothing to break the gaze that traces her
so you step, step, step away,
backing up and trying to fend off
the feelings that keep
coming back for more

feelings that have
taken root like green vines in blue vein form
at the base of your hearts walls,
suffocating you but providing oxygen,
life through red blood cells and touch, that rushes to
explode on top of
lips that blush with the anticipated kiss
and unexpected crush of lips,
that makes you dizzy from the burst in it.


And that dizzy is the kind of dizzy that floods
your head till you can’t think straight without
seeing double and its
the kind of dizzy that saturates the space after  
blood is drained from veins, and
the kind of dizzy that creeps over your eyes in dark fingertips
when you stand up too fast,
the kind of dizzy that explodes across skin, taking dizzy
to a whole new, soul consuming level that happens only
with her!

and with her, touch causes
the orange wings of butterflies in your stomach to
crash in a frenzied flurry of static stress,
till they drop from shock and
when you suck in air to revive those bright fallen wings,
the oxygen bites hard against your throat,
and pulls her in close, till
it’s just that final breath between you and her,
that final thin line that marks the stretch of just how
close you’ll come before you, too, step away,
and just how quick that single breathe could bring
her that much closer, and you're so tempted to
step and fill the space myself but your have resist

because what happens if you let it happen, that one
bittersweet kiss?

...That's love...Letting it happen'

And Vernon contentedly agreed with young Olga

So he went to her house
to ask her to marry him
with a bouquet of roses, a diamond ring, and his cheesy speech
being the cynic he was
But meaning every word Olga told him