We raced around the street in little circles and then dashed off to the corner store to buy something and then eased into "Poppy" for a ride to the laguna where we understood something about the creationists.
We ate and discovered something about oysters.
We went home and discussed various things and looked up and down each other's body and got to the point of having less and less clothing on and then stank up each other's airspace with the smells that come from human nervousness and then fucked.
We fucked until quite late because it was the first time either of us had fucked and we were curious about it to an extreme that wouldn't let us up even though it was unpleasant from the start and more and more so with every passing minute. Oh passing minutes! Would that they might pass more quickly and knowledge be absorbed with much fewer of them passing! That way we might live as in a century of progress and only manageable foreboding rather than a century of total despair every second and an earnestness unbecoming a race of excellent creatures.
We got up and fixed breakfast. We made toast and eggs and bacon and sausage and orange juice and milk and coffee and V-8. Then we went to a coffee shop and sat around like junkies expecting only each other's eyes. Each other's eyes were forthcoming, on time, always.
We got into "Poppy" and resounded across the beaches and hillocks around our community and expected a lot more out of them than out of each other.
Several of the books we had read, it turned out, were admired by the other.
We got into "Poppy" again after a good while in nature and headed to a library, first, where certain things turned out to be true, and then to a restaurant where we sat around for a while before the waitress was really there and then she was just pretty horrible and we wished she had never turned out to be there. Sad us.
The food, too, was not up to snuff. Sad subsnuffage.
We went to an exotic encounter between men, three, and a roomful of various types. The men were extreme in their contact with all versions of literary how-do, and the roomful were extreme in the genius of noticing. Many things passed by us at that reading and there was nothing between us, it seemed. We were as total strangers, which was just as it was and nothing much different.
Lost as we were in that mood and situation, we were never so bent by the unnaturalness of being near each other but not entirely on and under each other that we forgot to look normal. So that each, in fact, was enthralled by the apparent command and steadfastness of the other, enthralled even unto forgetting his own guilt, and the thing was furthered and much was going on at that point and later.
Later we went around and around and considered the houses (many) and the diversions (many) and looked at each other and ambled over coyly to the house most in question and there looked again at each other's body because that was protocol. Then there was a sullen garbage. And the garbage got better and then there were pig squeaks and that was hot. And this was a really great thing.