Friday, June 27, 2008

Connecticut boy

On that beach, it's cold and windy and dark. Snuggled next to you under one sleeping bag, your best friend on the other side of me, trying to be quiet while you touch me without kissing, reprising our afternoon in the back of a VW bus zooming on Rt. 50. It's cold and it's hot, it's scary and it's safe, I can't believe it's you, here with me, wanting me, after all those letters written at your hotel job and read in my bedroom 300 miles away. If I knew then what I know now, I would take you back to that beach alone, kiss you intensely, open myself under the moon light, damn the wind.


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