Food of Love

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He crawls on shaking limbs to arrange himself alongside me, trembling from the force of his release. I can feel his heartbeat thudding through his ribcage, the thrum of it echoing in the veins of his arm draped over me, and I soothe the staccato rapidity with half-note hums and quarter note breaths, stroking my fingers over his skin and through his hair, softly inviting him back down to earth.

I can see the moment he stops floating on feeling and starts descending into thought. It has been a long time coming, this coming home; living together matters not where absence is concerned, and his presence – here, in this moment – is palpable.

I observe the change in his countenance with curiosity, knowing he is sifting, settling. I know him well: Β There will be an outpouring, a stream-of-consciousness processing that wells from places deep within, and I am content to wait for it. But for all that I know him, I also know that we are venturing into new territory, and his actions now – and going forward – are weighted with a new kind of promise. And I am curious…

His eyes are glazed but from their fascinated daze I can tell that he has tumbled on to something that is holding his attention. And so I ask, invoking his name, what is going through his head.

He smiles beatifically, his face lghting with dawning joy, and he responds…

“Vegan pizza.”

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Looooong pause…

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Bwuaaaa-haa-ha-ha-ha!

And they say romance is dead.

πŸ˜›

0 thoughts on “Food of Love

  1. Mellow Curmudgeon

    Among the posts I have read so far on this blog, this one’s combination of exuberant sexuality and sly humor takes the cake — er, pie. Among the various real and imaginary foods that I can imagine being chosen as a punchline, “vegan pizza” is especially funny. Hmmm. Maybe somebody has tried using hummus in place of cheese on a pizza?

    Reply

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