An Epilogue:
she walks up to him
he'd long forgotten the
pitter patter of his heart
running laps
from his
head
(the large one occupying the penthouse)
to somewhere near the bottom of his belly
to his big toes
and up again
she puts her arms around his ribs
he takes a breath
they exchange hellos
then engage in festivities
yes
she looks different now
grown into her womanhood
with gravity like
the center of the earth
he looks different now
lines from furrowed brow
cap playful eyes
yet still this face
is the same as his infancy
they look at each other differently
but with the fondness of shared memories
they take the social lap
from park to bar, to BART
exchange pleasantries
begin the formalities of
20 something mating ritual
they agree:
her place
drinks
each assuming
nothing
until
bedtime calls
sleeping arrangement flirtations
lead to:
"i want to kiss you"
and tentative touches
exploration
of forbidden places
once the ground of fantasy
now tangled in sheets
he asks permission
she tells him it's "sweet"
she tastes sweeter than honey to him
his salty skin
smells good to her
(just pheromones he says)
in their quiet afterglow
limbs woven
words soft
heartfelt truths spoken
she becomes
just 'this incredible woman i know'
and he
a man different than the boy
who almost lived next door
a new chapter begins
it might be called something like
"instant connection"
or
"slow rolling boil"
or
"how pretenses were dropped in favor of something more real, and yet terrifying"
or better still
"making love: not just a euphemism for sex anymore."
he'd long forgotten the
pitter patter of his heart
running laps
from his
head
(the large one occupying the penthouse)
to somewhere near the bottom of his belly
to his big toes
and up again
she puts her arms around his ribs
he takes a breath
they exchange hellos
then engage in festivities
yes
she looks different now
grown into her womanhood
with gravity like
the center of the earth
he looks different now
lines from furrowed brow
cap playful eyes
yet still this face
is the same as his infancy
they look at each other differently
but with the fondness of shared memories
they take the social lap
from park to bar, to BART
exchange pleasantries
begin the formalities of
20 something mating ritual
they agree:
her place
drinks
each assuming
nothing
until
bedtime calls
sleeping arrangement flirtations
lead to:
"i want to kiss you"
and tentative touches
exploration
of forbidden places
once the ground of fantasy
now tangled in sheets
he asks permission
she tells him it's "sweet"
she tastes sweeter than honey to him
his salty skin
smells good to her
(just pheromones he says)
in their quiet afterglow
limbs woven
words soft
heartfelt truths spoken
she becomes
just 'this incredible woman i know'
and he
a man different than the boy
who almost lived next door
a new chapter begins
it might be called something like
"instant connection"
or
"slow rolling boil"
or
"how pretenses were dropped in favor of something more real, and yet terrifying"
or better still
"making love: not just a euphemism for sex anymore."