inspired by a funny poetic suggestion from my friend rob!

“thoughtful limbs”

i look over at you, asleep, your thoughtful limbs delicately wrapped around each other. this is the usual- you not touching me. instead your forearms grasp each other in prayer, your elbows lose themselves in deep debate and your knees whisper secrets i’ll never know. when you do touch me it is never as thoughtful or as reverential as when you touch yourself. there is a roughness to the way you touch me-a hardness that seems weighed down by an inexplicable capacity for indelicacy. or something…

…maybe it’s because the dog is always watching.