the cheek. That was all. But I've never forgotten it. He did it without thinking. Just a moment of intimate conspiracy, and he dropped his false guard for a second and became human.

Everyone is ashamed of intimacy and gentle things. Men don't even like to shake hands. Except maybe in France. Goddamn it, people should go around all the time kissing and hugging each other. My father kissed me once, when I was ill. I swear to God, if he had kissed me again some other time I'd be straight today.

Don't you see what I mean? What could be better than grabbing a big old fat laundry woman and giving her a good hug-just for the hell of it. Just to show her you care. People don't care enough in this world.

I'll probably go to sleep after awhile, and be aware of my lover's body even in sleep. I'll awake once in awhile to pull the covers up over him merely as an excuse for touching him. In the morning he'll wake up and get out of bed and put on his clothes and his false face. Then what I have right now will be no more, and I'll have to get by with merely remembering it. Maybe he'll come again some other time. We see each other often. He lives down the block.

Oh the beauty of him. I could cry. I honestly could.

He stops snoring.

Forgetting myself, I gather him into my arms and hug him. "Hey," he says, waking.

"Hey yourself."

one

Message to Joe

Larry looked at you, Joe,

And allthough his eyes turned back to me

He never really saw me again

Christian Lowell

14