Two Loves

I Hours and hours of empty talk filled with the lull of piano, pianissimo. I felt your passionate words through each round hole on the cordless telephone, I drank your syllables, sweet like cranberry juice, feverish syrup melting my ears. Our minds met, conversed, convulsed, condemned us to loving (or something close to it), and my brain still wrinkles with what I have yet to say. II One kiss in the emptiness, a full room of sleeping figures, and we connected through lips and fingers, beneath blankets that belonged to neither. And then, you and I became a wispy, fragile, ambivalent “we,” until we both found new beds and lost summer’s paradise.