Greg and I frollicking in the throes of symbiance- we have fixed the night for each other once again with our mutual love for complements that flow like an endless supply of champagne, and sincerity like strawberries to bring out the wonderful flavors.

Damn, but how I love writers!

I think it would pretty much cheapen the purity and intensity of it all to share any of the conversation with a harsh mistress such as this page, but believe me when I say that he and I take turns blowing each other entirely away in whispering, other-wordly wordly winds.

Thank goodness for Vermont, Breadloaf, our hilltop, the library tables that were slick enough to slide a top of, and his chivalry and walking across the field with him and our shoes getting so damned wet, and waking up to him that morning. Thank goodness for old lovers becoming friends and old friends becoming lovers.

He mispelled my last name in his away message and I find it charming- from now on, you should all use three N's. On with it!