k-d-t

I curl up beside you on the bed that is a student's sofa, and laugh as you perform your eternal comedy act to the group. You leap across unexpected connections, bringing the absurd to the forefront in witty wordplay, and as your humour tickles my mind, your hair tickles my ear, and the heat of your body warms my side. I fall against you, and we wiggle and hop our way through a hilarious mockery of cookie-cutter dance moves. The bass of the club mix throbs in the tiny, crowded room, and the crowd thumps up and down, almost in time with it. A drunken rower showers the people around him with cheap beer, but we are out of range and so the cries