Sometimes, upon waking, the residual dream can be more appealing that reality, and one is reluctant to give it up. For a while, you feel like a ghost -- Not fully materialized, and unable to manipulate your surroundings. Or else, it is the dream that haunts you. You wait with the promise of the next dream.

Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush".

Maybe I'm sad about wanting you. I'm not too comfortable with wanting someone.

I was grateful for cereal --- the only food that my tummy, riddled by pangs of infatuation, could handle.

The question is not, could Utah compete week in and week out in the ACC, SEC, Big Ten, whatever, .. The question is, in a one- game setting, can Utah compete, can Utah get the market share, sell the tickets of one of those more familiar institutions. Nobody knows that answer.

and yet I feel that the most real home I'll ever have is the space where our roads merged and traveled along together... for a time.

Her lips tarried at mine. Baiting each other with the warmth of our breath, barely grazing, detouring, then connecting.