i was elevated in chicago and she stood stonely beautiful. one photograph of her and each of us caught looking. a perhaps platonic form of beauty. her tongue being italian and a half of french. my future wife. magazine beautiful, and it stands to reason being a model. proëm postcard sent on the morrow from indianapolis. all day and i-65 spent thinking of half french kisses and where we'd live in paris. how i'd kiss her on the neck and she'd laugh as i mispronounced the italian words. the singsong kiss of our latin lovefilled tongues entwined. we'd decide whether isabelle was better than isabella for our first born. all this after a five minute wait for a crosstown chicago train. ô how i'd love to ask her on a date for the rest of my life.....