| vii. school break Loisaida, NY, 2:30am. i turn off my lamp to better hear her voice on the phone. She is in L.A. We lay on our backs. me in bed. She on the carpet of her childhood room, a place i ask her to describe. my bookshelves become her door, and my door becomes her walk-in closet. Our words ebb back and forth across each state of our conversation. Silence also keeps us connected. Yet, on this cold night, i still cannot warm my ear against her heart. Morningside Heights, NY, 2:30am. i turn on my back�gracefully lift her on top of me� grip onto her waist�tip of her tongue sweeps right behind my upper teeth. We lay bravely�pull in/push out each other�s diaphragm� on her bed as January tries best to invade her suite. my shirt : the only door she opens. Her bra : i unlock. Our hands gently peel off all thoughts of distrust while tying our come-froms. It is cold, and windy, outside, yet we still keep spring all to ourselves. Just passed noon, standing alone in her shower, i juxtapose every line of poetry we wrote during our winter break with warm water spouting on my face. |