I want to spoon feed you chocolate ganache on a summer Tuesday midnight at Havana on Commercial Drive.
I want your eyes to stay closed so your other senses are heightened, like taste, of course, but nerve endings more importantly, since Iíve slid my foot out of mysandal and Iím sliding my big toe up and down your brazenly naked calfís smooth unshaven blond hair.
Then weíll carve our names on thewall with everyone elseís, but Iíll be Wolfgang or Horst, and youíll be Isabeau or Annalise.
Just before dawn Iíll wake up and twist the blinds on the eastwindow so once the sunís light creeps down the west wall itíll inch over your hair and forehead to rest on your eyelids to awaken you to the blinding possibilities of new days, endless summers, and always waking to me watchingyou breathe.
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