Colder

He was six foot four, and forty-six and even colder than he thought he was James Thurber, The Thirteen Clocks Not that I cared about the other woman. Those perfumed breasts with hearts of pure rock salt. Lot's wives- all of them. I didn't care if they fondled him at parties, eased him in at home between a husband & a child, sucked him dry with vacuum cleaner kisses. It was the coldness that I minded, though he's warned me. "I'm cold," He said- (as if that helped any). But he was colder than he thought he was. Cold sex. A woman has to die & be exhumed four times a week to know the meaning of it. His hips are razors his pelvic bones are knives, even his elbows could cut butter. Cold flows from his mouth like a cloud of carbon dioxide. Hie penis is pure dry ice which turns to smoke. His face hands over my face- An ice carving. One of these days he'll shatter or he'll melt.