Monday, June 13, 2011

3 a.m.

[to be accompanied by:]

He holds me, kisses my neck, rubs my shoulders, strokes my wet chest. I rest my head on his shoulder, eyes closed. I kicks my legs out, padding wide feet against a cold tile wall. I open and close bright pink headed toes. 
“They're talking to each other.”
“My toes.” I say. I laugh. I flicker my toes back and forth, back and forth. 
“They're five-headed aliens and they're talking to each other.”
  He rubs my neck. “What are they talking about.”
“Oh, I don't know. Whatever aliens talk about.” I lean my head back into his shoulder and slip down, laughing until I spit up water with words: “You are so nice.”
“Really, why am I nice?”
 I laugh and slide up his chest. I turn around, kiss him. 
"You're listening to me talking to my toes.”

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