||[Feb. 24th, 2002|06:50 pm]
I look out onto the flat, gray lake beneath a winter sky. There are no palm trees here, no warm breeze to curl around my ankles and urge me down to the water's edge. The wind cuts through my jacket, flailing me with grit that stings my cheek.
There were other days. Days when our tangled ankles were all the touch that we could bear without the tropical heat pushing our desire back to the rumpled sheets. Lying in the shade as the air caressed our skin, seducing us into frenzy. I cuckolded you with a tradewind and you betrayed me with a zephyr. The sweaty panting on the cool tile floor was only the culmination of our adultery. You slipped into me aroused by the scent of the jungle. I was slick and ready with the call of wild birds. We used each other and groaned out satisfaction from primal depths. Our skin cooled under the breeze of the ceiling fan--and the jungle crept up our thighs and began the game again.
I look out at the winter lake and remember. I yearn for the tradewinds, but you I've left far behind.