wanted to sleep with him. Green eyes
flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool. You
could drown in those eyes, I said. The fact of his pulse, the
way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire,
not to disturb the air around him. Everyone could see the way
his muscles worked, the way we look like animals, his skin
barely keeping him inside. I wanted to take him home, and rough
him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his like
a crash test car. I wanted to be wanted, and he was very
beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good
while moving. You could drown in those eyes, I said, so
it's summer, so it's suicide, so we're helpless in
sleep and struggling at the bottom of the
pool.