Your hand is on my shoulder now, just there.
You could move at any time, but you do not. You are still in the same place while I breathe you in, imagine your fingers running down the length of my arm, to my fingers, to grasp my hand,
down my back, stopping, stopping at my waist, no don’t stop, yes my hips, yes more,
letting go and tracing my face, my lips, drawing my lips the way Cortázar must have taught you.. or did you dream that all yourself, that kiss?
holding tight and rubbing, massaging my poor aching shoulders until I melt,
pushing me down roughly and pinning me to the bed,
or simply there, still there, after a long day, a long night, tomorrow?
Still there, yes, want, still everywhere.