But then there’s Two.

Two.

I’ve always liked things in two.

Like conjoined trees or

the surprise of double yolk or

palms colliding in high fives.

Two.

I like things in two.

Montreal’s staircases winding away

and back together again.

Hands at play over keyboards

teaming up on songs that weep.

Sets of eyes that do the weeping.

Two.

I’m not afraid of two.

A pair of socks from warm dryers

an arm rest on each side of couches

doors for both driver and passenger.

Two.

There’s a lot to love about two.

Letters doubled in words like passion.

Dials on clocks to tell of time and

a pair of hiking boots

their matching tongues

drooping from adventure.

Two.

I like things in two.

I just didn’t know how much

until I met you and

together we became

a two.

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