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The Dream In the dream, I wanted to map your back: the slight waist, the square shoulders, every mole on that expanse of pale cream skin. You sat facing away from the swimming pool. I smiled as I slipped into the smooth blue water. Then the water was brown, thick with grit that scraped at me and I couldn't move and panic was sand filling my throat and you wouldn't turn around. Now you suck at my nipple. It stings like a baby teething. You move to nuzzle my neck. I feel the day's growth of beard on your face. I push you away. Your eyes seem wild, your mouth is a split plum floating in the gritty water of your face.
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