boy reception

after four days of every-day-I-want-to-see-you, we are catapulted east.
he to Milan and me to New York.
how strange to live this life and really only care about the smallest things.
the way he keeps his bathroom.
that he makes coffee for me in the morning.
the way he looked at me when his head hit the pillow after we did it.
not the doing it, or the saying of things,
but the coffee-making, and the insisting that i install skype on my computer,
the wanting,
the touching,
the looking,
not the going to Milan or to New York, but the notion that he might want me there, the notion that if he wants me, he will want me with him, he will want me to drink his coffee, or eat his leftovers, or bite his ear.
if this is a rebound, it is the sweetest of recoveries, to remember the way it feels when a man wants to share it with you--what? whatever, whatever it is doesn't matter, because you are only just two people and the life you live is all it is, and all you do is that--you live it, not for some point in the future when it will be great, but to make it great right now.
with Yoni it was all for some distant and unseeable future, when things would be normal or better or good or easy. but they really never are, but yet they are great, if you have let them be so.
i wonder if i could ever tell Orazio or Anna or anyone what that was like--what that was. probably not. how strange that they could not understand, no matter how much i explained. it is not comprehensible. i wonder if we will talk when he gets back, really talk, about things.
i sense that he is hungry for me. i am hungry for him, but perhaps that will all change after our time away.
we've danced around the subject of relationships, leaving that for later. perhaps after the holidays. he is cute, with his short legs and broad chest. i want him around.