My younger brothers Allen and Hank wrote a poem on the back of some printed Mapquest directions, the only paper available during their three day stay at a remote cabin in Vermont:

Directions to me:

1. Head towards my eyes,
2. Take a left when our eyes meet,
3. Whisper “I love you,” as you merge into conversation,
4. Stop talking and listen,
5. Bring our hands together at the connector of my life and yours,
6. Exit the crowded party in the back of the room,
7. Kiss me at the awkward intersection of silence and conversation,
8. Go to my house at Rt. 69
9. Arrive at me.