Poetry for Breakfast.

I watched a movie last week called "Cyrano de Bergerac." It's a French story about this sword fighter slash poet, who also happens to have an abnormally large nose. He's in love with Roxanne and Roxanne is in love with this pretty boy named Christian. Roxanne is the type of girl who drinks poetry for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And Christian is the type of boy who is couldn't write a verse if the entire universe depended on it. And Cyrano, like Roxanne, loves poetry. So, as the story goes, Cyrano writes letters to Roxanne, upon her request, and pretends to be Christian. Christian is the face and Cyrano is the soul.

Anyway, as I was watching the movie I kept thinking to myself, Gosh, this girl is insane. Here he is going off to battle and all she can think of is that he risks his life to write her love letters. Here he is standing under her balcony and all she wants from him is poetry. Don't talk about yourself, don't kiss me or even touch me, just stand there in the rain and tell me how much you love me. I mean, seriously? How shallow! But then I thought. ...I am exactly like her.

Feed me poetry and I shall devote myself to you. Write me verses and I am yours. ..Well, maybe I'm not exactly like her, but I'm pretty dang close. I love words. I love words that flow and paint beautiful pictures. If a guy recited verses to me I'd be smitten. Wholeheartedly. Give me Keats, tell me Shakespeare, read me Ingersoll, Browning, Goncourt, Byron..

So, is that a girl thing or just a Julia thing?