the most beautiful poem about love

Sonnet XVII: Love

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

- Pablo Neruda

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Another bit of high school nostalgia: yesterday was the homecoming dance. The theme was "In the Jungle" and it was held at the World-Famous San Diego Zoo--as you might imagine, people showed up in leopard print, zebra print, army fatigues, or, well, nothing. Wiggling through a crowd meant sliding through sweat upon bodies upon sweat upon bodies--you know, considering the lights and the heat and the lack of clothing, you'd think it was a rather erotic affair. But alas, it is still very unappealing to feel someone else's armpit sweat rubbing off on your back.

Oh, who am I kidding? That's a great metaphor for the high school experience. High schoolers getting it on is great. Viva la revolucion. Or something.

So in summary, it was a hot, sweaty, tasty (there were chocolate fondue fountains. FOUNTAINS!) affair and as I left, I saw some freshmen girls standing outside the dancing tent (..yeah) in jeans and sweatshirts I realized...

this is my senior year. boo . ya .


(Oh, and that is the most beautiful poem about love.)