Mon morning, 10 Feb 69
I should be on a poorly maintained commuter train rattling towards dance class, but instead I’m in Devon’s bed! I arrived at the airport (dragging my skis) he kissed me lightly and told me I could stay in The Guest Room (a closet) or I could stay with him. Hands off. “We’ll just cuddle.” Easy choice! He gave me a sign to put on the bathroom when I’m in there. When I asked what his fraternity brothers would think he said, “They’re wishing they were me.” I can hear the chimes playing out in the quad. This is a very small room: a bed, a desk, a wall of windows. We were so excited to see each other –the moment we closed his door we fell into bed together. We’ve been to parties, skiing and playing in the snow, dancing to Melvin & the Blue Notes but most of our time is spent In Bed. We’re so compatible, and Devon is so grateful and passionate. He hasn’t asked if I’m a virgin – and I haven’t asked him – the less discussion about the Toss disaster the better. Isn’t it more like I was in a riding accident? Though we have not yet gone “the whole way” we are both very satisfied – building a house of cards with lips & hands. This morning he missed two classes because he just couldn’t stand to get out of bed. Of course I felt guilty – I am “interfering” with his life. He says no, no, no and grabs me again. Coexistence is so peaceful…our green parkas side by side, my ruffly nightgown across his denim shirt. Complexity slash simplicity. The bed is small but we fit just fine, unconscious dancing, all night long. 8:10 PM – Interruption – visit from Jolene, a girl who’s staying here who’s snowed in, too. She is a tiny little fragile thing; wispy, pale dependent. She told her date she was coming out to lunch with me and Devon – met him at the Inn but her “date” never showed. She thinks he’s “sick” of her and I think he’s scared of her (it comes to the same thing.) Devon always orders Boston crème pie! It’s adorable. Right now Devon is at the library writing a paper. A fraternity friend of his “stopped by”. Lonely. Asked me if I was a skater because of my thighs (which I found vaguely insulting.) We listened to John Wesley Harding before I was able to get rid of him. Had dinner with one of D’s professors who makes his own Mexican food and who looked back and forth between the two of us with wild surmise. Devon spent the whole afternoon trying to draw me. He learned this new technique where you don’t lift your pen or look at the page – surprisingly he produces some terrific stuff but he is never satisfied. When I ask for the pictures he REFUSES to give them to me BECAUSE THEY AREN’T ANY GOOD. The next one, I’ll get. Always the next one. He says, drawing is a way to get close to people but I’m so close to you already I haven’t the skill to reflect it. I feel we are stuck in the Vale of Unworthiness. Devon has the most beautiful body I have ever seen. Nothing like world class high mountain skiing to create those long, strong muscles. And he shines from within, his soul glows through his skin like a lantern in a frosted window. We talk about our childhoods, our scary futures and the world we’re creating in our bed. He says between the ages of 12 and 17 he was in “agony”. Got a poem - Paradise Without eyes Ambitious goldfish float And dream of skies Where fins are wings And lily pads are clouds Dreams carried tight In gullets Swollen like seed pearls Safe forever from Vengeful sea salt or Killer Reality. Who can say if in their time of death Those dreams don’t live Burst their skins with tails Like comets Scatter scales like stars Spilling pond and soaring limitless To be whales To be gods To be free? Should I tell you everything? About how we match perfectly, about his mouth moving gently over my breasts, his hands in the small of my back, our legs entwined in fantastic positions. We do everything but. His eyelids shiver when he sleeps as if he’s running in his dreams like a wolf. To spend the night without him – I can’t foresee it at all. Reading D’s copy of Baldwin’s Tell Me How Long The Train’s Been Gone. Should have it finished by tomorrow.
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Alysse Aallyn
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