Art Sense

  As we lay together on the bed, I on my back and you pressed in close to my side with your head on my chest, I can feel your breath against my skin  as we talk, and every shift as you move your body against mine.

  The darkness is almost total, as if I were struck blind. I rely instead on feel and hearing, listening to our hearts beating, to your voice as we whisper to each other, and feeling your skin as I touch you gently with my hands, then feeling your hands on my stomach, caressing at first, then slowly you begin to draw images. You draw, and I guess.

  The sensation and intimacy of your hands distracts me at first, but slowly I begin to see the images you draw on my skin. Then you turn over, and it is my turn. Lifting your shirt, I trace silly things at first, snow men, pine trees, an easter egg, a house. You are very good at this game, guessing sometimes before I have even finished. A heart, then an “I love u”, a smiling face.

  But then you are stumped, I try again and again. It’s a word, four letters, over and over I draw it. Finally you give up and I tell you. The word is kiss. The issue, how I draw my “K” of all things. We laugh at my second grade handwriting and then you ask what I would have done next. So I spell it on your back, and you turn and bring your lips to mine.

  The game is over, we are too busy holding each other. You turn on your side and I fit my body to yours, my hand around your waist, and your cold feet against my hot skin cooling me down and warming you up. We fall asleep like this, close together, happy and, I like to think, smiling.