4/21/09
Exhausted, she crosses the bay bridge-the water gold and green with the sun setting into it before sinking behind mountains, painting the white bridge pillars a pale pink. She still smells his sweat on her skin, and can see the sharp, triangular cut of his arms and chest and when she closes her eyes she sees her finger tracing down the line in the center of his stomach, following the curves that dip into his pelvis, pulling her fingers softly up the dips in his side that lead to his back, his skin pale, reflecting the blue-grey light from the dripping morning. Heavy snow, like cold snot coming from her grandfather's nose, unattended, not bothering to be wiped away, taps the window, makes the street sound like the ocean when the cars drive by. His eyes follow her hand, drawing his body. His lips spread into a smile. She smiles...does he know, she thinks to herself, does he actually realize..no, how could he know i'm memorizing his body. As if caught in some forbidden act, her hand hesitates, but then continues with renewed focus. The brain can remember anything-it just depends on how well it pays attention, which is why she goes slowly, so as not to miss any single detail, like the triangle of freckles on his neck, or orion's belt on his back. but she realizes with each touch that the discoveries are endless and that her memories will jump dynamically. as she sits on the couch in Frisco, she can taste the sweetness of his lips, his salty tongue in her lower jaw. she closes her eyes, eager to spend the dream world in wanderland discovering and exploring next to him.
