emma b. says

Sunday, February 05, 2006

cautiously smittener

In between the last and this evening, there have been sleepless nights. It seems that this body and that body can't reach an accord that nights are for sleeping. So that body doesn't sleep but snores (who knew) and this body has been exploring the pecularities of REM dreaming, and catches herself on her back in snores... rolls over and her back hurts and the muscles in her groin are screaming, you undulate towards ectasy, you are you own private ocean and he is tempest tossed, all Shakesparean all at once, every heroine and every villain, every lost soul and all of the Hamlets mid-soliquy rolling over currents, rollling under currents, getting caught in currents, getting lost in currents, drowning in currents, choking on the white water and gasping for a lungful of fresh air. The very fresh air that is cooling on my breast bone, where the after glow is evaporating in my navel and the small of my back.

And he can't sleep and I can't sleep and we come together and divide and turn backs and turn forward and test limbs and torsos and I will eventually drop off to dream of dolphins in drag and he will sneak out of his own bed to escape my relentless sonar, and I will only wake when his upstairs neighbor lady gets busy to a thump, thump base and I realize that I am hot and, and the tank top is binding and the boy has vanished out of his own bed.

He's got a glass full of sand dollars he's bleaching for you, unbidden and just like that. A bit of small currency for the heart to trade on.


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