Dear Writer,

The cravings come in waves. There is the three-months-out craving: We set a date. Two-months-out craving--happiness, doubt. Bliss about ideas, notions get big. Doubt about all of it. One-month-out craving: Union will happen, regardless. Peering for love, spastic erotics. Our appetites are brain dancing, ivory thinking, centered imagination. Standing in a room with you. Curvy with you. The fall of the one-month craving. The room we go to: low lights and homespun plates: our plateau de fromage, gin with cherries, bitter and swallow, my tongue ruched, taste you in all available crevices. Four days before: bread, cheese, chocolate. In this order. Find out you ate the same. All I want is: bed. Cheese. I want: a sandwich. Slippery lovers say, "you two are skeletons approaching home."

In love,...

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