details on a velvet pillow

i remember lying next to her on the floor in the dark my fingers tracing the tiny mountain range of her spine. she breathed heavy and i slid on top of her. that was the best way it happened.

a tourist to her body, laying crystal eyed wattery finger tips beneath her and she went up so high then down and i fell off and knew the best love was here: too sweaty to really move and too tired to do anything but smoke a careful cigarette and put a pot of water on for tea.

i loved to watch her dress in the mornings.

2002-09-12 | 12:30 p.m.
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