purrrrr

Oh yeah, I'm the cat that got the cream this morning. A delicious little mystery has crept in from the black icy night and folded me in it's smoky ribbons. I feel... fluid; all arcs and currents and ghostly submerging touches. purrrrrr.

I awoke from a golden syrup-swimming dream (of a long forgotten sideways glance, recently pivoted) at a gossamer hour, to an unfamiliar metronome of breath - tugging me back to another bed, another man, another Arcadia. My own rhythm caught, knife sharp, out of time as I foggily tried to catalogue my space. He was there. Where he shouldn't have been. What. As is my habit, distraction provoked unconscious movement; physical tangents mirroring their internal partners. Waves in a puddle, escaping in inevitable measured concentricity, my feet carry me away. He exhales a soft rebuke - surprise, embarrassment, calculated defense... it's behind me anyway, trailing in my wake.

Edge found, I retreat back, insentient as ever. He's not there. The room stands in nonchalant order, mocking my candy red vacillations. Upright and uncertain, scanning the sheets for clues, my eyelids soon drag me willingly down again. Resolution never had an ally in my pre-dawn self.

So was it just the last slick oily film of fantasy, reflecting and refracting rainbow spectrums, or was he there? And why? Oh I get the banal biology - but I mean why? Was he coaxed across by the equally obscure machinations of his sub-conscious, was it merely a cynical maneuver or was it that ephemeral third possibility.

No, on second thoughts it doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't even really care if he was actually there or not. Our relationship dictates that we will never discuss it, and my real pleasure lies in the sublime pause anyhow - the gap between suggestion and certainty.

These moments are cloaks of faith to me. Warm and untouchable connections. I lay them carefully in my dowry chest and smile. Wow, I really feel beautiful today.