....in which, for some reason, you collapsed on my lap, and in an entirely literal manner we slept together, without congress but rather a sharing of weight and warmth, sort of like the ending of that Donald Barthelme story that I never read the beginning of. A dream about sleeping.
...and then I woke up.
Entangled with a pillow.
And it's July.
And hot.
And a spider bit me.
Stupendous.
No comments:
Post a Comment