prewrite
On mornings like this lovely rising sunshine of a day I wish I were less reticent, less calcitrant in my advocacy for what you know we both want but can not have. I wish I were the sort who would knock on your door, with a malapert smile, hand you a cup of coffee and tell you to get out of bed. I would put you in the car- yours because in it you are more gruntled. And I would lead you into the cold, sunshine. I would take you into a place where we could let down our guard and fully unwind, leave behind the politesse of our job and the places we frequent. I could kiss you and declare these things I long to say when I stare into your eyes. The apophasis of my affection goes unmentioned because we are both watching the snow fall through the Venetian sunblinds, which are needed in this strange mystical town. It is snowing in the sun and we are waiting something to run from. You’ve got the catbird seat of my heart but you don’t know it. My walleyed adoring is sometimes unspoken. I think it is noticed, but often it is more of an idea You don’t take advantage of it… or maybe its more than I am used to having it raped, beaten, and left for dead. And you don’t do that. You deal with me gently, like a soft kiss whispered across my check, like the way Rueben always asks when the date is, or the day that will descend into the Zeitgeist of our lives. When morality will become the gloves we don to keep out the cold, when attitudes and happenings will be the wilted glory of a summer flower blooming into the night. A jasmine to inspire passion in the dancing parade of our ball gone wrong and yet so right. You holding me in the rain, pulling me into a secluded place. …. On mornings like this I wish I could chisel away all the worldly rules that say work and stay and be and do. And just lay with you in a field.