Love is a Cliff

Love is a cliff

Do you claw at the edge scared you are going to fall and hit the ground with a splat?
or
Do You skip off the edge with a smile preparing to fly like Icarus. We'll talk about the sun another time. Right now, let's just focus on the cliff.

Love is a cliff

Can you be pushed easily off the edge with a feather, or is there a 300lb black woman attached to your legs? Why a black woman? I don't know. I just thought she was more interesting. Why didn't I choose a white woman? ...well maybe it's because I'm thinking of my legs and if I'm going to have a 300lb woman on my side, helping to keep me from flying off the side of a cliff, I want her to be black. ok? (cringing and preparing for hatemail from large black women or love mail, not sure which, better prepare for both)

btw...my least favorite holiday is Valentine's day. It either reminds me of how single I am or of how dysfunctional and unfairytale my current relationship is. It's also really hard to enjoy a romantic dinner with a 300lb black woman under your chair. I don't really feel that is appropriate to feed her table scraps and I don't really feel right about eating my pork chop while she looks up with those puppydog eyes. (once again cringing and preparing for hate mail. It might be too close to kwanzaa and MLK day to have written this paragraph, but I count on you, my enlightened readers to go with that sense of humor you've got.)

Love is a cliff
and when you manage to get enough leverage to pull me and my crisco loving black woman over the edge, you'd better be prepared for sonic boom and a crater the size of a trailer park.