“After Love” by Alan Michael Parker.

I wrote letters of introduction and sent them to every embassy of every future just in case you need something when you get there including to all the outposts of wind-up afternoons and to all the banquets where the gods disagree and to all the bees muscling in all the flowers and of course to every color.

In the letters I share a couple of our secrets the story of our argument on the way to Toronto how we drove by Toronto arguing because you were wrong and later the sweet closing of your body on my Niagara Falls my Maid of the Mist my Sea World and how in love you breathe in as though you were laughing.

Your right hand rubs my scalp scratching without thinking after love as though my head were your own. I put that in a few of the letters. I hope this is all okay.

Now wherever you go they’ll know you and you’ll be asked to accompany all of the presidents every grain of blue and all of the ministers every knife of every poplar and all of the other world’s ambassadors every cogitating groundhog. I wouldn’t mind being there to see.

Although my first obligation is right here as you rise after love to dress back-lighted and so slowly as each gesture rounds off how the light feels about the room. Everyone should know—I will tell everyone. I can do this much. I will write more letters more letters


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