The streets are chilly and damp, but the cab is warm. Your hand in mine feels happy and strong. Your black crepe skirt creeps over your knee, and I see the driver looking in the rear view. That comes out of his tip!
Once in my apartment The Skunk takes you over as his own, his new friend. I'm warming his dinner on the stove, so in a couple of minutes he will deal with that and leave us to our own devices.
And I slip Lindsey's dvd into the player, and we watch with our arms around each other.
Then we stand up and slow dance across the way-too-small bedroom floor. Your lips aren't cold anymore, from being outside. Your mouth tastes of autumn, and the early-coming sunrise.
Blessings have died in these sandy valleys, but please don't hold that against us. Tonight we heard music that just may be immortal.
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