close, yes, as close as we are, the miles that separate us,
remarkably, and not all the time, are often an aphrodisiac.
oh, sure, perhaps you’ve a preference for pressed flesh. spooning.
i certainly do. even as our lovely time accumulates, there are
so many new things to find out, it’s all
so exciting, isn’t it? in fantastic ways, of course, but also in
anxiety-producing ones. the so-called elephant in the room has
normalized, hence the del is short for delicate handling of this
taboo, which, for now, i fetishize, winkingly, like the distance between us.
