Friday, April 29, 2005

I want to lie in bed with you. Right now, it's raining outside. I always feel so deliciously smug to have cheated the weather. The streetlight flares and dies through the venetian blinds, sending film-noir stripes across our faces. My eyelids are heavy, but my breathing is light.

I'll reach across you and take a bite out of the almost-eaten chocolate bunny that's been sitting on my computer tower for the last couple of weeks. I've been eating it slowly, over days, when I remember it's there. I wonder if Bert ever climbed in bed with Ernie while he ate cookies. But then, Bert never could see the cookie for the crumbs. Maybe I'll drop a chocolate crumb on you, making you flinch. Maybe I'll lick it off.

My house is opposite a church. I want to lie sacrilegiously in bed with you on Sunday morning, listening to the congregation singing. Dust motes dance in the sunlight. We both have hilarious sticking-up hair. We'll whisper conspiratorially about coffee, eggs and Video Hits. Maybe I'll roll towards a cooler spot and feel your warmth instead. Maybe you'll trace a circle around my hipbone with your finger.

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