People tell me they don't fall in love,I find that extremely hard to believe.

Humans were meant to crave affection.

As a baby,we cry and squeal for our mothers embrace,for our fathers gentle hush.

We fall in love with the cute boy at the sand box with red shoes and Hot Wheel socks,sand in his hair.

We fall in love with the kindergarten teacher who promises us a date once we are legal.

We fall in love at weddings and supermarkets,

over glasses of wine at fancy French restaurants,where your hands and intertwined with his and you forget the snooty waiter with his annoying accent.

At the checkout line when the person "accidentally" forgets to swipe the 15th item or so.

At the bus stop,he gives way to you and lets you take a seat first.

Your heart and his beat in rhythm at the football game.

His because it's the last 40 seconds.

You because he caught you looking and smiled in your direction.

After the win,you run and jump into his arms,forgetting the cheers and the whistling,in check with only each others heart beat.

We turn to leather whips and handcuffs.

A substitute to the purity.

But we fall in "love" again.

At the movies,

We try to pay attention to the screen but what we're really thinking is

"Is he/she going to kiss me?"/"Does my breath stink of pizza?"/"I wonder whats for supper?"

And we succumb to cliched hands through the popcorn box,the yawn and stretch..

We sit in the air conditioned dark of the cinema hall,light of the camera flickering

watching famous people playing strangers in love

heroes like Peter Parker who loves Mary Jane

but he doesn't love her enough to give up

saving the world in blue and red tights

more than he would love having her ankles wrapped around his waist.

While we involve our emotions in the heartache of fictional characters

The girl at the pop corn booth is in love

With the boy who sold us our tickets

And stares at him at the corner of her eyes.

Who is in love with the girl who sneaked him his first bag of pot

Her ripped up baby tees and bed-hair,her raspy voice

They way she bites her lips when she smiles at him.

Her eyes...did I mention her eyes.

You could get lost in them,her hair. How could we forget.

A sea of black.

And if the world had any compassion left

They'd let them meet on a cold rainy night,unable to get to their cars

Pass back and forth a cigarette until their fingers touched and the girl,

which the bed hair and raspy voice forgot about her promiscuous lovers and fell in love with

the pop corn boy.

Under the flickering fluorescent who was in love with the switch.

Near the tap which was in love with the water that ran through.

We fall in love with the wind.

The inside jokes,when "he" burst out laughing with me teaching me Chemistry.

With perfect teeth,with imperfect teeth.

With lunch dates with friends.

Stamps and envelopes-the licking proves it.

We fall in love with the best friend for a but a moment

when he catches you like,something out of THE NOTEBOOK.

With teachers who talk to you like mothers

With best friends who cry with you in bathroom stalls

With best friends who act like big sisters

Who makes you get up and pray and brush your teeth.

With cousins who sit through 3 hour hair appointments doing nothing but keeping you company and reading old worn out mags.

With fall in love with moments,

with songs

with secret words only we understand-"Colourful"

under the quiet repetition of the ceiling fan under the watchful prying eyes of educational hawks.

Two pigeons kiss on my roof.