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Sun, Sep. 28th, 2003, 07:01 pm
bellecatene:

I woke you up early that morning

We had gone to bed late, playfully kissing between the steps
on yr stairs after the timed-ticking lights had gone out. The
stairs groaned beneath our weight, but forgave us for taking
advantage of the indiglo-lit dark.
You aren't the first, they creaked.
Yr secret is ours.

Shoulder to hand, back to floor, we fell hard and slow. My view
of the ceiling was eclipsed by yr face, yr eyes wide and
brown. The world was moving too fast, and I was dazed, the dark
a welcome blindfold
on my half-open eyes. Our lips met again, and I
smiled, yr body lay soft on mine.

I just wanted to read with you, a funny play,
a play on words.
I assigned roles, Betty and Bill, and in the midmorning summer sun, we met in a cafe.
I was reading,
you were looking to talk. The play progressed recursively, circling round
the strangers became
friends.
They went on a date, a Woody Allen movie marathon, at a theatre
down the street.

We both acted different in daylight; no deus-ex-
machina would fix the last weekend
I ever stepped foot in yr house. We were done.
We found each other once more in the dark,
and I avoided yr gaze in the morning.