ours is a doomed love

Apr 14, 2007 10:15

Dear Hot-Firefighter-Man in Front of Albertsons,

I did not know you would be there this morning, with the cool, crisp wind blowing againsts your chiseled face. It's not fair, really. I didn't even know what charity you were raising money for, holding your large fireman's boot out and accosting innocent citizens with guilt trips. I can't afford to give to charity. I can't even afford my next meal! But then you looked at me with that thousand watt smile, all uniformy and tall, and I rushed inside to get cash back from the Starbucks lady. I gave you that five dollar bill, Mr. Fireman, and my heart along with it.

"Hey," you called back after me, "Do you want a sticker?"

"Absolutely," I responded as I took the sticker meant for a five year old out of your beautiful hand.

But I find myself thinking, Mr. Fireman, that I could never be with you. Because I would ultimately wind up heartbroken and in mourning after you die trying to save a kitten in a fire. I just can't handle being a beautiful young widow so early in my life. I have things to accomplish, Mr. Fireman.

I shall dream of you tonight, Mr. Fireman, and they shall be good dreams. Because dreams are all that we can ever have.

In tortured love,

Ashley

love, good mornings

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