It All Began In A Stairwell
Rendezvous With A Stranger
As I walk through the city now, I feel autumn in my bones and between my legs. That unique dust is in the air, suggesting this decaying time of year. Something alive is about to die as the last blood of summer slips through scarlet veins. My thighs pulse in an undulating rhythm as this old season slides down those slippery sweat-covered slopes of fall, soon to freeze in the cold hands of winter—but not yet.
I’m sticky now between my legs letting a warm breeze move between my fluttering skirt and my quivering legs. Crossing the street just past the university, I walk into old-town where there are trendy boutiques freely mixing with derelicts, where the wine is either chic or drunk out of brown paper sacks, where I can stare into shop
