Don’t read a girl. Study her by the creases in her paper spine. Flip through her pages as if they peeled as soft as fruit. Let her believe she is when you watch her undress. Don’t stare at her body. Stare at the ways her fingers glaze the seam of her bra as if it were made of sugar. Stare at the way her eyes glitter and hum. Stare at the way her lips parch for yours. And when you hold her, pretend all of hairs on her head are locutions poets craved but could never touch. Ride her breath the way you’ve always imagined the wind might feel in an untraveled island. Sing to her even if you can’t. Let it be your symphony that flosses through the messy canvas of her heart. The heart you imagine to be the red of antique brick, is actually a soft clear temple. Let her know you’ve seen the light shine through it. When you make her laugh (always make her laugh) understand the carvings in her brow. Calk them with your kisses and flicker her earlobes so you know she’s listening. Know that brave girls write poetry for her. So know that when she’s kindly unspoken, that her tears are waiting for your skin. Throw down the life line in your palm. Tell her you won’t let go. Don’t let go. Talk about being accidentally in love but when you’re making love to her, stain her inner thighs with all the purpose you can find. Treat her veins like sugar cane. Thirst for her. Praise her soul in a language above you. Know her weaknesses fold like your knees will one day, even if it’s far far away. Pay for her crazy with the wit you read in Sunday cartoons. Become the home that frequents the word, “family”. Trust her to lock the doors when you are away. She will.