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46 [The Merchant of the Picturesque] This is pretty, pretty your sleeping body, hair shocked out against the pillow, eyes closed, lashes like a girl’s. men in sleep aren’t boys, but aren’t exactly men, either— they soften, revert to animal, curled-up beast. hair shocked out against the pillow, arms indifferent to my space. not without violence, even now, your hands clasp when brushed, or seek out my haunch, my wrist, and hold for a time, release with a soft grunt, affirm that i’m here, or someone is. how pretty, your face at rest, even soft, how pretty your mouth, partly open. i ask you, curled-up beast, with broad back that blocks the light, unlettered, uncouth for the moment, just remember, i am a little thing that lies beside, eyes open, watching you sleeping the sleep of the great backed beast, quick to stroke your flank, to soothe when ugly dreams threaten, to keep even your thoughts pretty, pretty your hair shocked out against the pillow. ...

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