"The best memories are like overplayed mixtapes: they lose clarity and detail over time, yet they seem to sound better the older they get."
We listen to the fourth round of Trois Gymnopedies
on our break from the second round of lovemaking
Our limbs entwined, in part because we like it
partly because we're stuck together by sweat and--
The air is thick with scents foul and fragrant
as furniture music fills the gaps in between
Every breath stalls to anticipate the notes
fingers twitch slightly on the downbeat
Ten minutes ago, we made our own music
Ten minutes ago, we were in perfect harmony
She stares at the ceiling as I stare on her lips
I watch her mumble the lyrics Satie never wrote:
*A pack of cigarettes,
a pack of cigarettes
Could you please buy from the store?*
We're taken over by uncontrollable laughter
as uncontrollable as the trembling when we came
She shifts to her side, and my arms are freed
I stand and pick my jeans from the floor
I take my time buttoning up my shirt,
soaking in the view before I run the errand
She lies naked still, as I put a jacket on
I leave on the fifth round of the Gymnopedie