An affair to remember

She aches for me, and I for her. The day passes in a haze of impatience for light to leave the world to darkness. For as soon as the shadows fall, my little girl runs to take me to her bed. And under crisp, rustling sheets we watch each other: she, as I dance for…

Rufus

My sometime imaginary lover, he rocks me on the violin. He calls me┬ábaby for hours, drawing out the word endlessly; playing on a libido already aching for lazy summertime lovemaking. And he makes poetry of chocolate, of little sisters, of circus magic and cigarettes while I only half-listen, and smile. * Written while listening to…