Talking through sleep, I offer him parts of rushing in dreams in fragmented word sentences. When I open my eyes midsentence, they are still closed but at least I can hear what I am saying. It is mostly delicious nonsense. He is laughing and so am I, tired. Beautiful sweetness of sharing.

I do not like this thing with the phone. I mean the way the reciever will wake me up when I am gone quietly to soft warm places, insisting I put it where it belongs. That hurts, coming back from elsewhere dreams to put the handset right. Painful.

Tonight the phone is quiet and sulking like me. Here's what I would say if I was holding him on the other end of it: Dude. I am so tired, dude. And then I could slide into sleep.

One day we will do it together - I mean fall asleep. Not in the same bed but in the same dark room, same soft air. Talk talk talk until neither of us will remember the point where we slipped seamlessly into sleep, both still talking, both still listening, asleep and safe.

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