He is such a delicious man.
I miss him already.
I missed him yesterday and I missed him Monday morning, when he walked out the door.
He is in Athens, Georgia for the week.
Work.
Gogo, our cat is at Greg's.
The house is cold and empty now.
Save for the mice and squirrels in the rafters.
Scratching occasionally at the drywall,
Nibbling,
Dropping something,
Hobbling between cramped dark spaces.
A generous application of mothballs didn't deter them. And we learned, after the fact, that they are carcinogenic. Oops!
I was thinking about him,
The way I used to think about him when we first met.
When things were uncertain,
But magical,
When time spent together felt like eternity.
Dancing late at night after work,
In his bedroom,
In that raggedy house on Kensington.
We danced almost every night.
We danced to Gregory Isaacs, Beres Hammond, Freddie McGregor, Marley,
And we would melt into each other,
Tug at each other's bodies,
Whirl each other across the room,
Laughter,
Silence,
Magic.
I remember.
Everything.
The first time.
The second.
The third.
Rocking.
Knocking on the bed and the walls.
He is such a delicious man.
I miss him already.
I missed him yesterday and I missed him Monday morning, when he walked out the door.
And I know I will miss him tomorrow.
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