Do you remember the winter we spent together in my tiny apartment on Drexel? Years later now, career-laden, child-obliged, I remember those first days of romance when I was drunk on the opium-thrall of you. The warmth of your body, the scent of your hair. When I held you in the darkness I swear I could feel the soft spreading of an indigo flower. You were leading me through the palace of myself, showing me unknown rooms. That is what it was to live with you and lie with you in that season of my early manhood. Each day an opening faucet. Each night the unfolding of a new corner on the map of my being.