Liebe, tell me a story. I cannot sleep, though my body is wretched and little me can't wait to drift away.
Tell me a story of your wild Moroccan men, with sand in their hair and eyes like the evening sun.
Tell me a story -- you're so close I can almost hear you humming in the kitchen, making breakfast with Turkish yogurt and honey, Greek coffee and popeyes the way Steve makes them because we both miss him today. The white walls are shining in mid-morning sun, it's Tuesday... today I will work at the bar, serving drinks and blowing kisses to tourists, and you will lounge in the hammock next to the beach. Your favorite boy of the hour will bring you cool beers with lemon. You can read Proust. Or maybe today, you will not read, you say and laugh s the bread crisps and yum takes over the kitchen. "Maybe today, I will a get a little dog for company."
Maybe today.
Tell me a story. You're so close I can smell you. You're so close.
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