Sunday, June 17, 2007
we got out of my west facing room, which always gets too much sun and holds on to heat long after the start of evening. we sat together on my porch, and he told me about fire-flies, bioluminescence, and other phenomenon alien to the cold climates i come from. minutes pass, and we fall quiet. i listen to the breath pass in and out of his nose, and i can almost feel the changes in air pressure on the hair of my arms. and then he leans over, and our mouths press against each other, those cavities of speech, silent still, but now quiet with intention.