Everyone was taking ownership of intangible things. This way of shaking hips belonged to that one. That way of igniting a crowd with the slightest shrug of the shoulder belonged to someone else. I didn’t own much. But I did have a decent memory and I knew you were lying, and you, and you, and it looked and sounded so appealing I made some lies up too. And then it happened. I had fallen into that caress. It was a brilliance that had embers in other parts of me.
So I grabbed them up and juggled them near where I thought that they should be centered. But emotional balance had emptied from me. That was the trick. The trick playing out as the different bits of promise betrayed themselves in misplaced arousals and categoric denials. I kept blowing on them. On the caress. On the rough hairs and the soft.