Lovetruckerthe Road Home
November 28th 2008 11:53
This time he touches her, like snowflakes, as the window blows open and the land’s hot breath cools his skin. She is really there, not just spurious fiction tapped on plastic but living breathing speaking to him from her heart, or at least from somewhere near.
The storm within the room thunders hard and lets loose rain that sluices down the walls, oozing music to soothe the beast within. Love’s lightning cracks and illuminates passion’s soft embrace, forging new life in this primordial soup of love and flesh.
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