Her red lips, her bright hair. We're laying in bed, in a motel somewhere. We're naked and there's a show about a doctor on the television. We out lasted whoever we share a wall with. We sat and smoked a slow joint. Well, she curled around me, fingers teasing the welted out scratches she carved. Fingers playing, the quiet snap of electricity passing between us too.
"How warm is it supposed to be tomorrow?"
"Don't know."
"Warm?"
"Probably."
"S'good."
Saturday, December 27, 2008
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