You look exactly like the galaxy on a foggy night, he said.
She could only agree and wish for clarity.
He talked and she heard horses.
She spoke and he saw a generous mouth.
Their song was only slightly less grating than a carousel.
They couldn’t stop going round and round.
Her hands longed to reach across the table.
He tapped the table impatiently waiting…
They were as close to joy as they’d ever be but didn’t think it could
come on a Tuesday.
The Word Rummager 
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