Your brown eyes shone mysteriously in the glow of the streetlight. Your hand tightened responsively in mine. Our walk was crooked, a little crazed. The moon harbored a tender coldness. We were not alone, but our heartbeats were racing each other. The snow had barely permeated the ground that cold November night. You came to me like a voyager across the Bering. We had laid with our anticipations long enough. Your black hair was growing out again. Waxing like the moon. My body was shaking. A thin veil of calm covered the perpetual butterflies. My mouth was dry. My tongue was always in the way. Thoughts were incoherent; I said things I never meant to say. The Christmas lights kept flashing as you spun around me. We barely spoke for what more could we say? Words were superfluous, dangerous on that gin and tonic stained dance floor. I tied a blue scarf around my head. You didn't even mention it. I wore heels too tall to dance in. You drank beer: Coors Light--my favorite. I drank everything in sight. The lights changed colors. The bedroom became smaller. I did a somersault in the hallway. You slept with me in my little bed. We were lost. You were naked. I was naked.