You.
Blackness. Rippling
heat. Quiet.
I was shivering.

You evoked in me--
something.
Held-back motion. Vibration.

Dark hair. Deep eyes. Searching
voice.
And thoughts of violin,
strange shimmerings,
half-memory surging
at the touch of your words.
A feeling, almost a taste
brought on by colors sucked
through modem.

It did not occur to me then that I loved you.

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This page copyright to Sarah Morehouse,
March 29, 2000