2001-04-30 :: 7:58 p.m.

Doesn't a night like this just do it for you? With windows wide open and the breeze coming in and it's all warm you could sleep with only a sheet and it's a tiny little hallelujah, minus one hallelujah. A leg crossed over your own, an arm across your middle, the ceiling fan purring. In Hoboken, when the nights were crazy hot, we'd kick off the sheet in our sleep, until we got the AC. And then we woke up curled around each other, entwined, like hibernating snakes.

These temperatures make me nostalgic. I won't say what I'm really thinking. I'll only say that a certain song and this goddamned stellar night makes me imagine things differently. I can only say I like these days, even throughout what they stir up in my head.

I can only say that I will try to contain this sprouting of something growy on my insides for as long as I can before its roots start poking through, circling my exterior, and there you will have it, the whole of me, my insides out, and in the open.

What will we do then when I have become so obvious? What will we do when the summer makes everything so much more apparent?

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