The East Village Edwin Torres ONE BY ONE So, who tricks who? After I show you my bruise, you still seem surprised by my skin. After we lay on each other's tummy, you burp out silent air and shake me from a dream I was having... using your belly as a pillow. I was surrounded by a circle of legs, at each ankle lay my favorite pair of your panties. Each leg was standing solo, no body attached yet very much alive and perfect, as tall as I was. One by one, I was to go behind each knee and start my tongue. What direction I went in depended on whatever a huge loudspeaker hanging overhead would yell out. The atmosphere was electric with sex yet brutal in a work-for-hire kinda way. I was laying on top of you, our bodies intertwined. One long stroke would follow a few short ones. As we stared into our eyes, my hands were somehow holding your perfect back, we were suspended over a blanket as large as a room. I started to say something and your hand covered my mouth. I put my hand on yours to move it away from my mouth, and lost my grip you plummeted. I saw your naked body falling away from me, your hair as wild as a black parachute with silve streaks. Your hips and perfect ass a mannequin out of my reach. You landed on the blanket as I was burped awake by your belly. There is no length attached to our consumption my hunger, a constant parasite for what's just out of reach There is no curve for the name of our bodies inside you, my hands are just now in touch with this fall Next