By Lisa Deng
In our case one of us is holding in a fart with his penis in his hands and the other is flashing herself in the mirror, checking for rot. “Do my eyelids look dry to you?”
“Then you’re not paying attention,” she says as she slaps on creams and butters.
With open eyes, we kiss good night and she asks me to get on top of her with my whole weight and lie perfectly still. A rasp escapes from below.
“Are we connecting?”
I hold her eyeballs until she is sure.
“I write to goof around.” – the writer