Stone

There are huge glass windows. In every perfect afternoon, there are always huge glass windows.

We sit. In leopard print chairs, facing the street, watching traffic and the odd glint of glass through rough jute blinds. The wooden floor squeeks under my feet as I kick of my blue brocade sandals, I reach for my Iced Tea, with too much ice as usual, I brush the hair out of my eyes, I reach for the soot between your fingers.

And then I look up at you. You smile and I wonder what you're thinking. You look overawed. As if you're watching something you've never seen before.

You kiss me. Gently, you brush your lips against mine and grimace as they come away sticky with lip gloss. We laugh and you tug at my hair making me ash all over the floor, but we dont notice.

The ravioli rears its head and we lean away. You pick up your beer, the bottle catches the tired sunlight and reflects stars over the white walls and dark brown wooden doors. You take a deep drag and lean back into the light, and I see myself in the huge glass windows, looking at you.

I look overawed. As if Im watching something Ive never seen before.

I wrote this on the 13th of September, 2006. I remembered it suddenly, a few days ago and felt the need to re-post it.