i'v been having this fantasy of late.
about having my hand held.
but it's not so simple as that.
its about the two hands cupping each other, fitting the one into the other.
but even that's not the whole of it.
it's that moment, when two strangers or two friends walk side by side and one hand makes the decision to reach for the other. when the fingers tentatively connect to skin, the slow crawl to palm, and the eventual grasp. all while the two people, now something more than strangers, something more than friends, walk together, heads up, forward-looking. it's the eventual glance down. the tightening of the grip. the passed mutual touch.
it's the transformation that such a small act demands.
yup, i've been dreaming of having my hand held. and of meeting a man courageous enough to reach. (or worth reaching for.)