Gray by Alice Walker

R. tells me, Every time I find myself talking to you I love you all over again; like remembering, but also new.

I tell him, Which is the same with me; see every time I talk to you I love you and even if we don’t talk I love you and even if I only think of you I love you too.

With all my heart I am hoping you have someone like this in your life. I’m too much alone to have plenty, but someone willing to be vulnerable with me, even if just the one person, is enough.

Happy birthday, R. What a great accident, our meeting, you say. I am thinking, what a holy mishap of events. I am thinking, hot damn. I am thinking: yes.

Gray
Alice Walker

I have a friend
who is turning gray,
not just her hair,
and I do not know
why this is so.

Is it a lack of vitamin E
pantothenic acid, or B-12?
Or is it from being frantic
and alone?

‘How long does it take you to love someone?’
I ask her.
‘A hot second,’ she replies.
‘And how long do you love them?’
‘Oh, anywhere up to several months.’
‘And how long does it take you
to get over loving them?’
‘Three weeks,’ she said, ‘tops.’

Did I mention I am also
turning gray?
It is because I adore this woman
who thinks of love
in this way.

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