SamadhiMuse

                                            August 2nd 85
                                Sweetie my love,
                 I thought about you all evening long, last
            night.  I just couldn't get you out of my mind.  I
            was full of you.
                 Poetic images, tangible feeling, flashbacks,
            desires, familiar scents, it was all there.
                 I wanted you; I was aching for you.
                 Strange that after being together every minute
            and having you so totally in every way these past
            few days, I should still feel this way; so strongly.
             Sweetie, even today all I can think of is you.
                 I can see your profile, in the car, while
            driving back from Mexico, and I want to run my
            fingers through your hair, I want to touch your
            skin, and have you rest your hand on the inside of
            my thigh.
                 I want to look down the cliff and see you, small
            figure, vulnerable Buddha, sitting on the sand, my
            mat neatly arranged next to you, waiting for me; and
            I want to feel the love I felt then, swell inside of
            me again.
                 I want to lay in bed with you in that same
            fetus-like position, nestled against each other, two
            beings, one man, one woman, bound by love and lust,
            trying to blend (melt) into each other; if just for
            a moment.  I want your hands on my neck; your mouth
            on my breasts.
                 I want your sweat to mix with mine; to feel
            your passion again.  How exotic it is to make love
            to you!
                 Is it possible to keep on loving you more;
            lust for you more, want you more?
                 Sweetie, I really don't care.  I'm not afraid.
            I love being swept by that feeling.
                 It is making me intensely happy; It is making me
            18 again (or is it 15?) but with the wisdom and
            knowledge I have acquired since then; how much better
            can it be?
                 What can I say?  I love loving you; I love
            lusting for you; I love looking at you, feeling you,
            listening to you, talking to you.
                 Is this love or what?
                 I feel so alive and strong and happy.
                 Oh well, that's all; just thought I'd drop you
            a note to see how you're doing.
                                 See ya, sweetie
                           Lise
                 (I just reread my letter)
           P.S. And just think, the scholars are trying to get
           away with the semicolon.  What would I do without
           it?  How would I write my letters?
                  ;;;;

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —