Made love, and made love.
Sweet wine, candlelight twilight.
Mattress on the floor.
Maybe you remember.
ONCE SO DISTURBING, AWAKENING ME. Are we still living together in the big bungalow? Cooking and kissing together?
Then we’re at a meeting in a big house (a rival’s, ours is across town). Her dad I don’t recognize, think it’s her brother.
She leaves, I change my mind, run after but can’t catch up.
They drive off, somehow I’m in pursuit.
IN ANOTHER BIG OLD HOUSE, we’re moving in – Greek Temple revival? – repair it? A leak on our sleeping bags – a group of four, is my sister one?
My Beloved: “It doesn’t have to be this way,” meaning us, as I nuzzle an ear.
Somebody we know (a friend of her father?) (or mother?) is getting married.
“They’re so close [naming another couple] won’t even get them a present.”
LATER, HIKING IN THE WOODS – toward Centerville? – a Corvette stops, she halts and talks, wasn’t even going all the way.
BUYING HER A CORSET OR BUSTIER for her birthday.
“No, peach!” And then, “It wouldn’t be for me – it would be YOUR birthday present!”
How lovely, desirable, in one or the other.