remember when we were laying in bed
and for no reason at all
we switched sides?
we were both reading (the new yorker and some obscure novel), though I don’t think that four words per minute can actually count as reading.
other literature distracted us.
I narrated the stuttering salt of your beard.
you quoted the braille of goosebumps down my neck.
eyes within eyes within scent
teeth and tongues sketched
tall tales to skin.
our laughter marked the next chapter.
in a single insignificant moment, my own commonplace inhalation was shared by your equally ordinary exhalation.
eyes within eyes within breath was understood.
sealed with the lyric of our lips.
this is why.this.
it’s about to happen.