I love you! It's darth. I have been sitting on the largest clock tower I can find, dropping daffodils on people. daffodils don't hurt when they hit you from far up. Newton's Law Of Daffodils would be an absurd premise, just don't go there. happy valentine's day! this would be an excellent time to get married. we could wear yellow. ducklings would mob us, that's how cute we'd be! the main thing is, I'm going about this proposal posthumously, so get ready to be widowed, right out the gate. or to be a widower (to use another gender-specific term), if we added a few letters to the word "widower," we'd get the word "wildflower." just saying. wait-- I hear music at our wedding! it is the sound of a hundred thousand conceptions of babies on american soil, conceived of immigrant families. a conservative electorate from the Goldman Sachs investment firm is singing "happy birthday" in the wings, to these tiny zygotes, granting them citizenship in the united states. long live conception, the moment of life, and long may the conceived hold citizenship in any country where their parents may, or may not have copulated. at our wedding, if we are surrounded by thousands of immigrants who are copulating upon arrival across our borders, let's have enough champagne for them. do you mind marrying someone who's dead? this is the best time to be married, here, in the worst political climate. our honeymoon will be one continuous protest against every evil we can confront. we'll support each other. we will not let refugee boats start sinking a hundred miles from Greece, we'll be there. we'll snorkel beneath everyone, carry them on our backs through the streets of Greece into new clothes, hot dinners, jobs, housing, we'll pay for doctor visits when needed. we'll hang out in alleys in every city's night, confront rape before it gets the chance to even start to talk smack. we'll stop rape, you and me. we'll launch an offensive against circumcision, against all non-consensual genital mutilation--all of this we'll do, in advance of our first anniversary. make t-shirts with me. they could say: "if the bible told you to whack your baby's penis off when he was born, you wouldn't go and do it...right?" we'll take all of it seriously. we'd have to save the world together a little each day. in order to let you know I'm in earnest, I'll write you a limerick:
a nice person called you there once was, who got married to me just because, when they said it was foolish as christmas is yule-ish, you told them "be Stills, Nash, and Cros!"
hear this: I promise I'll always wear my helmet. I'll never take you by force. I'll throw my cape down in a puddle, to protect you from getting soggy. if I rust in the rain, just keep me as a hood-ornament for your viking funeral pyre.
it's never too late for love's crazy black glove, thrust into the lightning of redemption.
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