Josh fired a blunt, sucked it down, exhaled a borealis of smoke. A trick, she thought as he moved on her, his hands pirating her breasts, her belly, her legs, between her legs; him constructing crystal edifices; her fingers stretched taut in search of sparklers, prism splinters, clusters of coincidence.
Gay Degani
www.gaydegani.com
About Things That Are Lost and the Places That Things Get Lost By
Andrea Kneeland