physical or invisible. storms of electricity. eyes blurring back and forth. vision muted grey with black lines. wavy like the scream. ghosts impassioned from the shadows of our faces. breathing in her mouth. swallowing her breath. lips in delicate brush strokes. exhale. inhale. exchanging breath like two junkies.
we talked about a bunch. what worries us. i said she's brave. she said she's just all over the place. i said she's brave but it's ok to be afraid. its good. asked me if I was afraid. i told her no. i worried. she said she just had to be more grateful. that's why i yelled thank you at the mountain. an hour after she'd put her hand on my face I told her "gratitude. thank you." for what? thank you. she said thank you.
"i like your energy, its good." i mumbled.
she cooed.
"i like yours."
my hands gripped and caressed the mountains and valleys of her spine, waist, scalp, dug deep and warm gentle and strong.
neighbor snoring.
the greek yafo pepper story whispered in her ear. laugh. the rush of hungering. caring enough to stay away but hungry.
wanting her to leave then come back.
she left my motel twin bed in jerusalem at 4:30 am.
i waited for awhile. she didn't return that night. the music played and she didn't return. then, with my heart, a feeling of my heart coming and going, showering heart. jeff texted me while I wrote this. celebrate it all.
