I smile again and give his hand a squeeze. I get one of the chips and dip it in salsa. My tongue burns because it was not mild. I cringe a little, but do not say anything.
Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart -Winnie the Pooh
Poetry is my cheap means of transportation. By the end of the poem the reader should be in a different place from where he started. I would like him to be slightly disoriented at the end, like I drove him outside of town at night and dropped him off in a cornfield. — Billy Collins