some things aren't as strange as they seem at first, he thought.
finding his way through the folds of sheets
searching through neon-lit curves of brilliantly colored fabrics
treading on
and pressing through
down-softened pillows and cushions
seemed very real
very acceptable.

sometimes thoughts try too hard, he reminded himself.
straining for clearer sight
searching for the source of fading laughter
understanding his senses
seemed counterproductive
all he needed would come to him
freely.

sometimes the understood yields discovery, he noted,
his nose pressing through a fold of satin black
sensing the breath of a warm body
not his own.

some discoveries are greater than others, he thought,
newfound hands lifting the fabric from his eyes
bright amber jewels returning his gaze
tongue-wet ivory peering through a smile
which he found himself sharing.



the jagged lines of thin fissures
rising high on blackened cement

the deep blue radiance above
cascading down glossy walls

the cool air
a gentle draft

sheltering
quiet


the contrast of fur against fabric
sheer strands upon sheer sheets
an invitation for touch
upon a barrier to his hands

the reflected arcs of violet
in deeply golden orbs
revealed by thin fissures
in a smiling face

the warmth
and scent
of a heated
waiting breath

sheltering
inviting
desired
quiet

sweet.



drifting senses
wandering fingers

what must be done now?
he asked himself
acting out the answer

his palms must share the touch of new fingers
his nose must feel the sense of new whiskers
breath was made to be held
eyes were made to be closed

his scarred padded palm
sheltered cool soft fingertips
his bristling whiskers lying
intertwined with the arcs of hers
his cheek warmed by her breath
his nose warming her smile


slowly, the neons faded
distant unseen tubes of glass,
arc energies falling
though never flickering
never wavering in their descent into a deeper
darker
blue.

slowly, the ceiling fell
though never breaking
never failing.
an unseen expanse of black
crouched over the room below
stabilizing itself on supporting walls
radiating light
cool drafts
and rising heat

filled lungs expelled despite sealed lips
filled the room
holding the darkness aloft
demanding everything nonsensory
should protect that which might feel
touch
or be felt.


that was the story of how it started
the story of the beginning

from its bewildering start
an inexplicable entry into an abruptly created life

the source of all days
and passage of rolling seasons


resting against a familiar hardwood
muzzle upon neck

under and upon the cool greens of earth
under the flare of the setting sun

he remained cooled by her tongue
heated by the fire in her amber eyes