INTIMACY

He came up from the sofa as I walked in,

pulled me to him with a certain force,

turned up my face to his to kiss me

gently at first.

In the bedroom he took me so compassionately,

inhabiting me entirely,

gazing forever into my eyes

so devoted, so utterly in love with me.

Later we sat naked at the kitchen table

drinking coffee. When the phone rang

I knew after two exchanges it would be

a thirty minute conversation

with his hunting buddy about the deer lease.

I could have climbed into the freezer,

flown out through a wall, set myself on fire.

I had already disappeared in front of him.

I knew if I sat still, he might or might not see me

when he hung up. As it turned out,

he did and he didn't.

On Writing

I write this business hoping for something. Hoping that somebody will read it and think, "My goodness, that comes from the mind of a creative, witty, thoughtful person whose ideas I'd like to know more about."

EVERYBODY ON THE PLANET WRITES A BLOG WITH THE THOUGHT THAT MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WILL READ THEIR BLOG AND THINK,

"My goodness, that comes from the mind of a creative, witty, thoughtful person whose ideas I'd like to know more about."

Subject matter.

Style.

Context.

Don't matter.

ONE THING MATTERS.

"My goodness, that comes from the mind of a creative, witty, thoughtful person whose ideas I'd like to know more about."