Imported Poems

What do bomb threats and statements of purpose have in common?
Absolutely nothing - other than they are both going to appear in this blog.

<Aside: Anyone who hasn't read B-Mental's blog for the New Year MUST read it. I actually can't decide which prediction was funniest because they were all written with a twisted accuracy. (-

Okay, bomb threats...

Last night we had a bomb threat at Walmart at about 8:30. Such a thing is normally not significant enough for me to mention (unless, of course, the building blew up; then I might not be here...) but in this case, I got to stand outside for 45 minutes with Aaron. It was a cool 65 degrees or so under a clear, dark sky with a slight breeze blowing in off the coastal waters.

For whatever reason, the boy wouldn't touch me, so I finally took it upon myself (I must always take it upon myself, sigh) to break the ice and touch him. I grabbed his hand in my nervous, awkward manner, and he nodded shyly, uttering something about "hand", and then to exacerbate my dork status I remarked on how beautiful his hands are - and they are some of the most beautiful hands I've ever seen on man or woman - pale, fleshy, soft, unmarred by manual labor, a child's hands. He said he never enjoyed manual labor, and I told him he must never do manual labor with such delicacies.

We stood outside some time, and then he managed to put his arm around me, and later, I wrapped my arms around him, and slowly, tenuously, he rotated his hips around to meet mine. We stood there hugging for awhile, and I stroked his head the way I used to stroke my son's head to put him to sleep. He laid it gently on my shoulder and remarked "You could put me to sleep - you have a wonderful touch", and I told him I would love to put him to sleep sometime. He had one hand on my hip and the other on my lower back - he seemed hesitant to do much else. I drank in the scent of his black wool coat and closed my eyes, part of me wishing I could die right there. I did not care that the world was staring at us.

Someone called, and we moved back inside, where we were called away from each other. Quite frankly, that sucked. I haven't felt so happy and content in many years.

I can't wait until Thursday, when I can see him again. I'm denoting days as "Aaron Days" and "Non-Aaron Days". There ought to be a word between like and love to denote this intense other feeling - maybe loke. Yes, I loke Aaron a great deal - my little Dorian Gray before the fall. I wonder if I can preserve his innocence, or if I will untentionally create a conceited monster.

As to statements of purpose - I have to write one for graduate school. Why do I want to go? I did a google search on "samples" but could find none; only recommendations to avoid saying "I want to teach" or "I love to read". I'm a terrible BSer; if any of you have suggestions as to what to write, please let me know. I'm anxious again -this graduate thing may give me a nervous breakdown.