I dream more than he does. Or at least I’m better at recollection. Often spaceships. Often a second Earth. Often unable to contact him – a wrong number, an inability to drive, a constant packing of bags. Often blue movies. Forever waking to clichéd softness.
The relationship, our relationship, is more take than give on my part. I lose time in film, poetry, other men. Neglect the core of us. Yet, unconditionally, I am his Galatea of the Spheres, his Felix. I dream best after a fight.
I cry when I ask him to smother me. I cry when he refuses.
The Eiger, 13,020 ft above sea level, is a violent bloom in my sexual fantasies & I fear a vulnerability, an echo of another me when I climax seven times in twenty-four minutes. The Eiger’s north face was first conquered on July 24th 1938. The Eiger has claimed over sixty lives.
At 62ft above sea level Norwich has no mountains.
Where is my line of ascent?