Archive-name: Dreams/love.txt
Archive-author: Fabian Le Gay Brereton
Archive-title: Love

Keywords: mf humor
fabianb@tartarus.uwa.edu.au (Fabian Le Gay Brereton)


 
Her hair is long and strait, and dark like expensive coffee. With
unblemished white, so white skin and round startling dark eyes her face
is a frame from a black and white movie, from a great black and white
movie, a masterpiece. It is too perfect an image, a constructed thing, a
magic thing. It is like a moment captured from the now and digitally
retouched to be placed back in real time frame by frame only when it is
perfect. Her nostrils flare as she inhales long, slow, deap breaths.
 
I am spellbound; I can not blink lest I miss a moment. 
 
Every movement is carefully choregraphed, carefully scripted. It must
be. Her weight changes from back foot to front foot; her orientation
begins to change; she blinks once, slowly; she wets her lips with the
tip of her tounge, discretely; her back foot lifts, she begins the turn;
her head first, her long hair dancing behind and then her body
completing the turn. Simple, elegant, an econemy of movement, a dancers
poise.
 
I am in love, I love her. I love her. I love her.
 
She faces me her lips part. I am still enraptured, I stand captivated
straining to hear. I glimps for a moment her pink tounge framed between
full round lips washed with a pale brown. Her full attension is centered
on me. Her eyes are locked with mine. My palms are damp with sweat, I
shiver in anticpations, my penis begins to rise. Her voice, "Thank you
sir; two rows down, the window seat on your right".
 
I am complete.

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