Thursday, March 05, 2015

One Day Post Vomit

He leans in
I lean away
The very tips of my fingers
Tickling his
Pajama covered shoulder
I assist him in finding a more vertical orientation and
Under the cover of a sonic disturbance out in the hallway
I subtly increase the spearation
All the while never ceasing to read
The Trumpeter Swan and
Never stopping to wonder
If Sam Beaver
Would have embraced Louis so fully
Had muteness
Been contagious

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