Let
me lean into your hair and breathe in your warm, clean scent.
Tackle me with tickling fingers, knock me over, make me squirm.
I'll nibble on your neck a bit, and make a dirty joke.
You'll drag me up and down the block, till we've searched out every coffee
shop, and reading nook, and weird demented new-age store,
With scary guys with scary hair leaning over the counter offering you 'Fairy
Dust' for good luck, or maybe this book about trolls?
Then I'll drag you back down a different block, and through the city and all
the buildings.
Looking up and up and up.
Falling over our own four feet as we race the dusky-shadowed building monsters
from one end of the bay to the other.
Exhausted by our chase, we stumble into yet another hole-in-the-wall to steal
some warm recuperation.
You wrap me up in arms and drink, while telling me all about your life.
Then you prod me for details of things I never talk about, and make it seem
like no big deal. I mean, hey, it's only you after all.
Next you grab your camera in one hand, and my hand in the other, dragging me
back out the door, already clicking fast the shutter.
But it's night! So what? It's the city, there's light.
So you keep right on clicking and posing and grasping at figments, air where
you think you might best find a shot, that would hold me to you on the screen
later on.
You keep clicking and clicking, till I finally get tired. Then you, sensing me,
make up for my sudden lack of enthuse, and drag me further to a club strobing
with lights.
We dance there for hours, till the club's shutting down, catch a yellow-topped
cab, rumbling and slow. You hang up your camera, I hang up my coat.
Time for a movie and popcorn, hot chocolate in bed. I'll fall asleep, wrapped
in comforter, my pillow still breathing. You might wake me up, after the movie
is finished, just in time for a few pre-dawn kisses.
A few hours sleep, my head tucked under your chin. Dreaming separate dreams,
together.
Our limp-tangled limbs greet the shade-prying strips of sunlight with
unconscious aplomb.
Oct 28,
2010