i bet that if i could hear the voice of god, it would match garrison keillor's deep molasses baritone, which--to my great fortune--recites poetry through my radio every night at 9:58pm, thirteen minutes after i leave night class, and three minutes before i pull into my driveway.
after listening to this program religiously for the last seven months of my existence, i have reached this conclusion: if i ever meet a man who can read poetry to me the way dear mr. keillor does, i will marry him. i am confident that we'll be able to work through potential conflicts with my own quirks (the vegan issue, of course, and using only vinegar or baking soda to clean house, and my awful nail-biting habit) and his (what if--god forbid--he likes wearing socks to bed, or growing hairs out on his shoulder blades, or keeping the tv always on as "background noise"?) because every problem will likely be resolved soon after he pulls out a book of poetry and starts to read. i can feel my heart warming up to him already.
unfortunately, a 58-year seniority would pretty much disqualify any interested party--no matter what he sounds like--but i think i can settle for a nice 10- or 12-year difference (haha, does it sound like i'm still in love with d. much?)
keep your eyes open for me, ann. i'm ready to be swept away.
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