He had the tangled hair and the not quite tangible soul.

He had the fast motorcycle; the combat boots and occasional pink, hi-top Chucks.

He had the chick pants.

He had the deepest eyes, like black holes, they’d suck you in and convince you anything.

He had the laugh lines, the expressive eyebrows, even.. the character-built nose.

He had every girl, even a few boys, in line—and he knew it.

He had the tall frame, A shape, and lickable abs.

He had the world in his careful hands; paintbrush, camera, tools, heart of the girl next door.

He had the surf beneath his feet; ocean or pavement, even snow.

He had the sun embedded in his skin.

He had happiness in his voice, deep and slow.

He had adventures and ‘that-one-kid-I-met-one-time’ only heard about in the bestseller books.

He had the history no one expected, etched with worry in his forehead—the price of growing up alone.

He had the party where ever he went.

He had the cops on his tail.

He had me.

At hello.