11:48 p.m. - July 12, 2003
On the couple across the lawn from me
I watched a couple make love tonight pressed against the sliding glass door, silhouetted from behind. It was only a few minutes but beautiful and enthralling, similar to watching gazelles run across plains or flamingos taking flight on Animal Planet, something primeval and sacred in the fluid motions, the grace of the union fully expressed.
My housemate / flatmate / dullard accused me of being a voyeur and it was not that. How could I explain that I finally understand the phrase make love that I never compehended wholly? Akin to T.S. Eliot's fulness of the hour, the drawing near of the next, presience where the next footfall lands.
They were beautiful and I ached not for loneliness or greed or desire but for all that I've missed because I didn't realize what I had.
