She is statuesque with horizontal inclinations and when she lays down gracefully on the four poster antique bed in this unassuming remote wood and stone cabin that I like to pretend is far from the real world because you just can’t get far enough away...her hair splashes across the pillow like a tube of mars black paint across a virgin white canvas...and all of a sudden, the room takes on the appearance of a luxurious boudoir at Versailles…a palace that seems to have stepped out of time and place and is too good to be true...some people look like they just stepped out of a shower...she looks like she just stepped out of a dream...a dream that you don’t dare to dream even in your wildest dreams because it couldn’t possibly come true, it just couldn’t...but here it is in front of me...her eyes are dark brown and warm like a cup of the finest, richest, purest, sweetest hot cocoa from a ski chalet somewhere in the Swiss Alps and it goes down easy and warms you like a liquid electric blanket ...they are loving and soothing like a warm glass of brandy as they glisten like the freshly fallen snow outside...when they look at me...well, I’m probably one of the more jaded souls, but I melt...she is smooth and silky...more milky than the Milky Way, twinkling like the billion stars above that shine from somewhere magical...she is like mighty Lake Michigan steaming on a cold, dark night...quietly inviting you to explore her shoreline...there may be danger, but the risk is worth the reward...when she moves, she’s as quiet as a whisper of wind over a mountain...every move she makes looks like it has been choreographed by Baryshnikov and practiced to perfection...every word she speaks is spoken with precision and in perfect pitch, and her smile could disarm an entire invading army...her skin is as soft as melting butter and her body is radiant and glows like one of those religious paintings that you would find in a resplendent church somewhere in the south of France or in a Paris museum, done by some old master whose name I can’t pronounce and whose depth I can’t even begin to comprehend...but I can appreciate the beauty...it’s enough to make me shiver and I think how lucky I am...the fireplace pops and crackles and I throw some more wood on and it’s like I felt like we were the only two people in the entire world, the entire universe even...and I hoped that the night would last forever...and on that night the moon rose and the rose moon into the grayish blue winter night sky that looked like it was being illuminated by some angelic power and the evergreens collected the softly falling pure snow on their branches and they hold onto it gently and gracefully like the old women ringing their bells and collecting coins and dollar bills in front of the stores in town; where there’s people in the Christmas spirit saying “Merry Christmas” to total strangers that they would totally ignore any other time of the year...and the lights downtown twinkle and glow and reflect in the store windows where some people sit in the coffee house and sip their hot drinks and the people outside walk crunch crunch crunch the snow beneath their boots.
