XXVI

LOVE LETTER, NEVER SENT

Oh my darling! Oh my love!

I woke up this morning with a song in my heart and a tremor in my drawers. I can’t contain myself any longer: I love you! I love you! I love you! It’s true! I’m a monkey on a moonbeam! A pig with a pennywhistle! Whenever I see that chewy little face of yours with that dazzling Colgate smile, well, my ladybird does backflips. BACKFLIPS, DARLING!

 

And it’s true what they say, you know, Love IS soft as an easy chair, fresh as the morning air. It’s higher than a mountain, thicker than water. It’s the mountains in springtime, a walk in the rain. It’s a storm in the desert, a sleepy blue ocean.

 

I could go on. I won’t.

 

Point is, I’ve never felt like this before.

Oh, there have been other boys. I won’t lie. Chad Michael Murray. Aaron Carter. Hobie from Baywatch . . .

But none of them hold a candle to you.

 

Flip, my love, my pouty little poster-boy, my own special chew toy—I love it when you are dressed in your football uniform, handsome as all get-out. Of course I do. Who could resist your classic cover-boy looks? But I love you even more in T-shirts and jeans, on your slobby, Aberzombie days. Sometimes during class I sneak a quick peek at you when I’m sure nobody’s looking.

I love the way your shirt is unbuttoned to your sternum, so that I can see the rise and fall of your chest. Would that I were an oxygen molecule (also known as O₂ , as we discovered today) and lucky enough to be swallowed by you! Oh, to be swimming down, down your throat into your circulatory system, paddling to your lungs. IMAGINE BEING INSIDE FLIP KELLY! Imagine the pure pulmonary bliss! Yes! Oh! And the platelets of LOVE! Happy, happy, I would be happy at last.

Now imagine homeostasis with Flip. (Homeostasis being the state of maintaining constant blood composition.)

Oh, Flip, my love, my honeysuckle hunk, we could be so happy together.

 

I see something in you. . . .

Something the others don’t see.

A softness.

A sweetness. A delicate innocence. Yes!

I see a sensitive little boy who tries to hide his “hugginess” from the other Backseat Boys. BUT NOT FROM ME! NOT FROM ME!

You’re really just a little bunny-boy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?

You’re my little pocket-poodle, huh?

 

So, now you know how I feel. I am quite confident that very soon you will get a special visit from the Bluebird of Bisexuality, and you will realize that I am the one for you, too. And from then on, everything will be picnics and plum pudding. And won’t that be heaven?