As I was waiting for LB at LAX in the US Airways terminal--a journey that takes three trains + a shuttle bus if you're dumb enough to use LA's mass transit--I suddenly realized that Angela Simmons (one of Run DMC's daughters in "Daddy's Girls" if you're a reality television whore) was sitting in one of those universal black leather airport seats with the steel armrests. She (or someone that looked just like her) was fidgeting + irritated. I glanced at her for a second, but only a second (I'm not a starfucker). Later, she looked at me, worried that I was staring at her (actually I was looking at what was going on behind her: a woman that dropped her suitcase + then kicked it). Angela Simmon's friend/cousin/whoever arrived in a baseball cap. Eventually, I lost track of them because. . .
LB magically floated down the escalator + I really thought I might lose it. It's been two and a half months since I've seen her. For two or three seconds, I got to look at her with an objective point of view, as if I was seeing her for the first time + she was even more beautiful + heartbreaking than I remembered. Angela Simmons was attractive, but LB was fucking stunning. Seeing her descend on that escalator was an emotional experience for me. I could have loved her forever the way she felt as she wrapped her arms around me, stuck on the love of intersection. I was delirious + sprung on that moment, caught in a net of madcrazybeautiful love. Sometimes love can be so real it hurts like a fist in your eye, but sometimes love nourishes you + brings you back to a place of wonder, a backyard where fruit hangs from the lowest branches, so ripe it's swollen, practically gushing with the earth's dye.