she wore panties that pretended disinterest, while i just pretended disinterest. we sat across from each other as I undressed her: your shoes, please, if you will. and now socks, tiny as they are. the pants, the shirt, the bra; but I couldn’t take the panties off. My imagination was not built for such delicate matters. My eyes were dripping with desire, a desperation for the dead leaves of fall. My tongue slapped in salt water, a poisoning of the wilting flowers of summer. My fingers dangled from strings played by Aphrodite in spring rains. My ears rang from slamming doors, a forest exploding in winter.
screaming at low volumes
