An Interlude Who is a Girl
The Christmas-tree-carpet taste of bad gin fills your mouth. You’ve
woken up in a lost bed. Enjoy the uncertainty. Brown
skin breathes in front of you and it takes a moment to realize
this is not yours.
This is something of a new experience.
Pull a hand up from under thin college-dorm blankets and slide this stranger
to you. You know her name but she is still a stranger; this
doesn’t matter so try not to think of it for a while.
You are both half-naked, wearing jeans. Appreciate
the symmetry of this as you run tongue into neck hollows,
waiting for the gasp and shudder that tells you she is awake
because you once read a story about a man who made love
to his dead wife and thought she was just asleep and you want
to make sure.
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