Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I’ve always loved watching you sleep. Maybe it is the heart shape and proportion of your face, the arch of your eyebrows, your dad’s nose. The inhale and exhale of your breath forms a dry mist glow, a peace vapor. I see you a baby in your crib in a one-bedroom duplex with brown paneled walls, my friends peeking at you, while you sleep, them desperate to have one like you for themselves.