Hotter Colder Slower Faster

January 31, 2008
By Chelsea Van Bloom, Boston, MA

Your words snap razorquick
at boiling point,
sharp enough to freeze
the (solid)
ball-point ink
the color of your ocean storm eyes.

I was always jealous of your
constant game with heat,
of fire and ice.
Temperatures are rising
even as the rain turns to snowflakes on the
windowpane,
where I pressed my palm,
sweaty and full of heartbeat,
thinking I could melt the glass
the way you melt hearts
with your bitter cold humor,
An equal match for my Hot Temper.
We make steam out of our banter
Hotter Colder Slower Faster.


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