He kept it on a key chainWith a bald rabbit’s foot And a mini Magic 8 Ball. It caught her attention From across the little city library, Over the top of Harlan Ellison’s The Pain God and Other Stories. She lost her breath And her page.

She moved to stand expectantly At his left shoulder, Like a wooden match Looming over a rough surface: Longing for flame But nervous of the strike.

He was flipping slowly through a book of clouds And explained without looking up, “I forgot why the sky is blue.” “Higher frequencies,” She whispered, “Are prone to scattering.” “That would explain”, he replied, Looking up, “How your eyes wax azure As I'm moved from want to wonder.”

On a bench outside, Where the big maple promised to hold the world, He closed his eyes and touched her hand With just the tips of his fingers, Like a child reading the Vedas in braille. “I feel like I’ve been trapped in summer forever,” She said, “And I just want to fall." He smiled beneath his blindness When she asked if he'd catch her. "No," he answered "But I'd never let you fall alone."

He still had his rabbit foot when he opened his eyes, But she'd taken his heart from the keychain. It jingled hopeful in her hand as she waved From the ice cream cart across the street. Without even consulting the Magic 8 Ball He knew he had nothing else to lose.