On Wanting

I want someone to lay with me on grass, on a hillside we’ve had to walk miles to find, high-up – so high the frost cracks under us – enough to see through the lightest autumnal cover into the chasm of the galaxy and I want us to feel small and beautiful and I want us to make love there to celebrate just how small we are and how this, this can be the best of all that is as it is as it is as it is.

I want our sweat to shiver the other and the frost to make us cold until we clothe and run down the hill, howling.

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