I want to be in love in a movie.

I want to be in love with Tom Hanks in a movie.

I want a complication-less love everyone understands the pursuit of.

I want shady decisions to seem romantic in light of other selections.

I want to be in love with Tom Hanks and for Tom to be in love with me, complicitly, like we’re an in-joke he can’t live without.

I want to fall in love like movies, one of those 200 puffs replacement cigarettes the end of which lights every menthol breath.

I want that Cary Grant love, An Affair to a Remember is, like, actually, dough-solid.

I want a stuffed crust affection, oozing over edges, infecting everything.

I want Tom’s ability to summate the crappiest act as romance, and to be that romance, and to wholeheartedly accept any palmed offering of always.

I don’t believe in ghosts.