Say Yes

reprinted from January 30, 2007

I was thinking about those Conversation Hearts that we used to hate the flavors of, mostly, but in high school were a kind of compulsion, along with obsessively watching (reruns of?) the Newlywed Game, which we called Sell Your Soul For A Toaster.

But the Conversation Hearts. They were great; you could tell someone anything, even to eff off, essentially, in two words and ten calories or less, and the purple ones tasted particularly scabrous.

Eat me

The concept is elegant from start to finish. As friends, we’d trade them, and there’s something so right about minor gods and goddesses exchanging bits of stickiness and sweat. Sweet Talk. I knew I was never going to die when I was in high school to the point that I actually told people that. I was wired into something larger and felt the electricity of a preexisting immortality running through me, at least as real as blood. Life is individual, of course it exists only within the one, but maybe that electricity increases exponentially within a network. We passed the candies from person to person, and they became conductors of that electricity- the sugar, the salt, the sweat, the word, the word, the thought

(Love Me )

And so it goes.

I speak for all minor goddesses; I still believe in the magic of candy and sweat. I believe in fairies and the spell of a midnight rendezvous. Some summer we will have a dance in a clearing in the moonlight at solstice- just you and me, we will- you will see.

And there is no magic like the miracle of chemistry.

moon through the leaves

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