the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love
I slept with her (on the bus)
I had only seen her a few times before, but we slept together on the bus this morning, or at least side-by-side. I did not anticipate to sleep with this somnolent woman when I first got on and sat down beside her. I don't believe she foresaw it either.
In fact, I don't think she saw it at all, because I closed me eyes after I noticed that she had shut hers. When I roused again, she was still soundly somewhere else other than with me. It was a serene moment, probably the first time I had slept with someone and neither of us felt shame, guilt, remorse, anxiety, fear, repulsed, or self-conscious. Sleeping with someone should always be so nice.
Admittedly, it was my first one-ride-sit, and we both walked away and apart without ever acknowledging it, nor even imparting a single word to one another. Even though, as two strangers seated side-by-side, we certainly had shared a rather melatonin-inducing ride and a purely rejuvenating space of time, a few minutes that might easily be misconstrued as intimate and sublime, neither of us felt compelled to even say adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
I wonder if tomorrow might once again bring such bitter opportunity? Perhaps then, I will be awake enough to say hello. I'll make sure to drink a cup of coffee as soon as a I get up!
the art of living the art of love