by Ari Collins
Short weeks and long nights kept my thoughts around past their sell-by dates. I matched Nina's breathing, slow, longer out than in, faint until her snores would later wake us both. Stereo exhalations filled our tiny one-bedroom. As thoughts became muffled and our breaths slid apart, I again wished we weren't only roommates.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Poetrical Lockstep
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