I just want to tell you how wonderful it is to see you, how terrific you look, how amazing you smell, how the sight of you reading these words fills me with a warm goo that can only be described as L-O-V-E. What is that fragrance? Did you roll in a soft bed of flower petals before you left the house? Did you buy the adrenal gland of a pixie from a wandering gypsy shaman and squeeze its juices onto your wrists after you got out of the shower? It brings a tear to my eye. Not just the thought of a pixie dying in the forest without an adrenal glad, but the enchanting heart-shaped smell bubbles that are rising off your body, popping around my eyes.
And what is that you are wearing? It reminds me of a documentary I saw on PBS once. It started off showing an unbelievably fashionable and sexy outfit like the one you are wearing right now and worked backwards to show its origins. It showed how it was shipped across the Pacific by a band of rascally sea dogs who drank rum and sang all day and never seemed to steer the ship, only let the kind winds blow them in the right direction. Then it showed where the clothes were made: a commune of wizened women, well fed and treated like queens, sewing the days away, given jugs of wine and tea cookies laced with ecstasy. Look how sharp you look in it! Have you been working out?
The sight of your eyes sliding delicately across these sentences is nothing short of enchantment. What a dreamy moment this is.
How lovely it is to see you.
Now go away.