30 April, 2004

Waking to Naked

...skating away/on the thin ice of a new day...

I unclip my hair and watch him come apart.

"I had no idea," he stammers, before becoming completely incoherent.

I laugh, stop suddenly. He's serious. And unsuccessful in his attempt to not stare.

Vaguely ashamed, as though I'd inadvertently flashed a good friend, I sweep the wildness into a bundle of messy repression, making some smartass (or perhaps asinine) quip.

The phrase "naked longing" lodges in my gut.


"Do you want your side back?"

"Not necessarily. Will you not be able to sleep on that side?"

"I sleep in a real bed so rarely, nothing bothers me. I thought it would bother you."

"Actually, it's kind of a novelty to be on this side of you."

Still, when he returned from the bathroom, it was "his" side he climbed into.

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