Wednesday, April 13, 2011


My hands made the sound of the ocean as I spread my fingers against the wall and watched my brownness stream against the dead cold white painted cement. I stopped when I reached the door frame. The room was dark and the movie was over, but there he lay; chest bare.

I watched him at first... at a distance … I swept my palm across his torso, the result: a hushing noise designed almost to lull one into slumber. His right arm leaped across the both of us and landed on my shoulder. The weight of his hand and the faint grip alive in his fingers kept me under his spell.

At such close proximity I could smell his natural musk. His whiff escorted me into a state of celestial console. I could also feel the quiver of his heart underneath it all.

Drowning in restful contentment, I struggled with what to say so there was silence. The silence tore between me and my ease, I felt awkward. He didn’t.

As I unwrapped my lips and untangled my tongue, my eyes tried to lock into his but couldn’t. He was asleep already