XXIII
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CRUSH TALK
I told everyone at the party about her hands. I told them about the square of her thumb, the plush center of her palm. The way she moved her ring from one finger to the next while we were talking. I told them everything I know about her body. Catalogue of teeth and injuries, soft bellied and busy. And when they asked for a photo I denied it, I said I rely on a language of first words. The way her shoulder slides into mine while we are walking. I said sometimes we are so close that when she says my name I can taste it. |