A Dissolute Life Means…

Phone calls and long conversations

British lilt from a brutish man with thick rugby thighs and a big slab of meat

What’s your favorite word?

Psychopathy, I say. And apothecary, galactic, turpitude. What’s yours?

Luminescence. And reciprocity.

Sea salt and black pepper crackers in my ears after a long drunken day with his friends

Six Nations rugby match in Ireland, an extended brunch and many, many beers

I couldn’t wait to call you again.

I’m glad. Leave yourself a note for tomorrow about how witty and charming I was on the phone.

I won’t have to do that. You’re different. Beautiful and intelligent.

And he’s 5000 miles away

Except in 4 weeks he will be a table top away, an arm’s length

Which is why I will still be looking