Long slow ache

The outside of my hips, the back of my shoulders, my eyes are all upset with me. I am tired and my ears hum along with the refrigerator.

Yesterday at coffee with E we laughed and at times our feet touched under the table. I notice a new openness within me to physical flirtation. There is a boldness in our dialog and I am relieved to have almost one friend.

Later at work I receive mixed signals from my crew. I have been upping my attire: vest, shirt, tie; trim, sharp dresses. I always carry an almost illegal knife in a pocket and use it to skin citrus. I am not invisible. Wool and stockings are around the corner, I want matte brick colored lipstick.

My apartment is a haven. We air our bodies and lay naked for hours eating melon, drinking coffee and each other. We part knowing that the long present is a tidy gift.

I am sore, tired, hungry; content with the gradual thawing of my senses I notice how much I've learned in my absence.

All my love and back