Today on the hottest of days I walk out into the hot morning and watch a sky that has already opened up once and is sure to pour out once more at least before the day is over. It rains again. It does not get cooler, but indeed hotter, and I am hotter, and I want you now, want you naked, want our hot sweaty raw bodies in my bed in the heat in some vain effort to put out this fire. But no. We will never stop until we are sweeping out ashes in some distant morning, spent but not satiated, never satiated. So now this inferno rages on, keeps me hotter, makes me sweat more and want you more, want you hard and inside me, makes me crave the rain, makes me wet makes me wait, patiently–no not at all patient! I am impatient, waiting, anticipating, not in some romantic sense, but in all my gluttonous desire throbbing and wishing to peel off your clothes right now, to lick you, to eat you, to have you in every sense of the word, in every direction and in every moment, impossible I know, but all the more desirable for it.