Hunger
When you came to my doorstep with that carton of misery and Moo Shoo Pork, ebony chopsticks with that gilt inlay; dragon devouring phoenix, devouring dragon, I opened the door to touch you. Plum sauce tossed aside and we sat drinking, naked and still breathless. I lit a long cigarette and stared up at your endless eyes. I thought of polished and pitted wooden floors and an overstuffed couch as the breeze outside blew lovingly through potted palms and hibiscus. The sticky Texas heat seems a million miles away in our air conditioned cocoon. You reached down and stroked my face and I was lost. Devoured. Like the dragon and the phoenix and the dragon I was consumed and yet there I was, alive to face another day.
