graphics mode c r o s s X c o n n e c t previous | next

| main page
| issue contents
| contributors
| e-mail us
   i    s a w    y o u    w e i g h i n g    y o u r    g o l d    b e h i n d    t h e    c u r t a i n

--- T O M   D E V A N E Y

The glint of golden glints travels as fast as talk of sex. I just wanted to tell you I love when you tell dirty stories like I wasn't listening. After two months of no work, sleep-in when you should be looking. Make love, books and head noises.

The morning streets, high red brick smoothed soft by years of direct light.

Beauty doesn't own a brush. Won't wash a knife with a wooden handle. Won't say it understands when it doesn't. Astounds even Brooklyn. Fool if you think it's over.

© crossconnect 1995-2002 |
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania's kelly writers house |