it was a tuesday and we were sitting in the closet because the room outside was too big and too open and out there sometimes words and nonwords careen off open walls in ways we didn’t mean or ways we didn’t want or ways we really wanted and meant but weren’t quite ready for.
we passed back and forth a turkish cigarette and my hanging clothes became hard drives storing stale smoke but i told you it was okay because i do laundry often and so we lit another one.
you got naked first and i got naked next and we sat there surrounded by shorts and t-shirts and pants, staring at each other’s bodies but not judging. i asked you if this was comfortable for you (it wasn’t for me) and you said yes .
it wasn’t late but it could have been very late by the way my eyes kept closing and forgetting about real things like hardwood floors and rent and love. with your left hand you grabbed me very gently and i opened my eyes and you said don’t fall asleep yet and i wondered if we could have sex in the closet.
it was a big closet but not a huge closet and i once had five people in there, passing spliffs around because in high school we hot-boxed every room possible and it’s very fun and important to replay our high school days.
you put your stomach on the hardwood floor and i got up and on top of you and almost inside you and i asked is this good and you said yes, very good, perfect, so i kept trying only it didn’t feel quite right or i wasn’t sure what ‘right’ was.
after a bit i asked if we could try a different position and you did a pushup, very strong, twisted and shoved me back so my bare ass was on the ground and you straddled me, our heads obscured by the bottoms of button down shirts.
you asked me if it was good and i said, yes, very good and i think briefly i really meant it so you lifted up and down and up and down and i thought about earlier how i had wondered if we could have sex in the closet and wasn’t sure if i had said it out loud or not so i looked at you and said: we really can have sex in the closet.
this confused you, i think, but we were in the middle of having sex and sometimes miscommunications and confusion get ignored or slicked over or brushed past in the middle of sex even though i always think the other person is very aware of these moments.
i grabbed onto a hanging shirt to balance myself or maybe to feel something other than you and it came crashing down on us. we were blinded by forest green cotton and we laughed and had one of those funny-things-happen-while-sex moments only right after i really didn’t want to have more sex but wasn’t sure if you wanted to stop so we kept on and i didn’t come but you might have and we fell asleep in that closet and i don’t think we’ve ever been that close or intimate before or since.