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  • Jen Glantz

FROM LOVE IN 60 SECONDS, OR LESS

It tugs on my heart strings, this crazy little thing called love. As if I am standing in the middle of the race track, paralyzed by the gushes of wind that pass between speeding cars, threatening to knock me down. Delicately, I hang on, like draped Christmas lights that continue to shine even while they tangle, while they twist and while they rest, untouched, for months.

Because once you discover love, like a geocatching scavenger, It is with you forever. Shattering the glass teardrops of an hour glass, monkey-grabbing on to your limbs and lingering like lint on black pants, the permanence of dripping mustard on a white t-shirt.

And I find myself rolling my eyes behind the curtains of my batting eyelashes when fools come forward to say that they used to be In love.

Because love cannot be destroyed, or erased, or lapsed from the inner workings of your memory. If it once was then it will be, with you forever.

Fine, It can be diluted in the same way we often water down sugary sports drinks. It can be shoved aside and left to rest under piles of unopened snail mail or weaved in and out of lumps of dirty clothes. It can be tested for its length across the currents of an ocean or carried with you on a marathon as you lace up your running shoes and dash in the directions of your most comprehensive dreams.

And though the love that has spun around in endless circles may no longer snooze on on the tips of your fingers, It doesn’t mean that it no longer exists. It is right there where you left it, waiting for you to go back and brush over the ‘what-went-wrongs’ and get lost in the semi-precious crumbs of a time that once made you feel so anxiously alive, radiating with heat like freshly molded gold.

The ones who thumb over footnotes, preventing them from turning to a new page, envy those that so easily allow themselves to crash and explode into tiny particles that mix and that match in the glittery dust of another.

I reveal in finding that stubborn kind of love, that begs to sit beside us and watch our heart rise and fall to the tune of expanding waistlines, and the tick-tocking of biological clocks.

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