lettuce forget just for two hours that we just met and really you could be anyone, and lettuce sustain our teenage stereotypes, nourish them with our shared saliva by the fire - we are cold and soft like snow and we are happy to share our lizard tongues and lizard brains, our foolish young emotions firework in our skulls, ricocheting against the walls. sparks.
earlier i watched snow drift down the chimney, slowly melt, while ash was propelled back up by hot air: neither sustained for long in new environments, in foreign air; similar up-and-down particles which i watched while our hot sweaty hands lay open like flower petals, at our sides waiting. someone had to move (i did), petals clasped together and i noticed the warmth and roughness of your hands.