Two hundred and sixty seven

One, two, three, four… show me your teeth; bear a wild grin with pride. I shan't deny your paltry purpose, a poultry finely picked for a fine fall fiesta. I wish we wore dress-clothes; you know the dark one with a frock and pleated pants? I saw your face glow. I picked sunshine today. It will leave an imprint on the scrapbook of my life in the form of a maple leaf. I'll see it forever in my mind, the way the clouds parted when you arrived and gave me a clean slate... a deliciously barren canvas full of potential. Did you know my maple leaf came from the reflection of fractured sunlight upon your iridescent iris? It's in my scrapbook. My scrapbook beats to a rhythm.

Buhthump buhthump ssshh buhthump.