Carl and I go regularly to a little Thai massage parlor in Koreatown. It's on the second floor of a strip mall. It's quiet inside and turquoise blue. There's a spot on my back, when you run your finger along it, that makes my whole body shiver. There's a place on my leg that would weep if it could when you apply any kind of deep pressure. The body is a storehouse for sorrow, the skin a map. Run your finger there, push your hand down here and tears leak out of my eyes, slant over the rise of my cheeks and pool in the curl of my ear, a seashell roar over the piano music dripping.
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThere is nothing like a good massage!
ReplyDeleteSo sensual. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteHello dear friend. I have missed you and your writing. I am doing some power reading to catch up on all that is you! It is like reading a good book. I am savoring every word. xo You seem very much at peace.
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