The Russian Baths

It was an interesting
idea, a little scary, a
little, I don’t know…
intimidating unnerving
unknown, she asked
me to go to the Russian
Baths…a beautiful girl
(who didn’t know she
was) laughing eyes and
sudden smiles, I had
really just met her…a
date…actually the day
before, the night before
…no wait…it was a week
before and then the
night before so it was
a third date where I was
going to be semi-naked
in front of her-people-
strangers-women-men
…damn it was hot and
it was strange but she
wasn’t, I saw myself from
the corners of my eyes,
saw myself seeing me, she
was comforting nice
normal like it was every
day, it was not everyday
but, so what, it was hot
and cold and hot and
cold and once we went
to the roof—benches and
padding—a cold November
sky sat above us, we
were warm with the city
around us…the noise
of my thinking too loud
in my own ears we went
down to really hot and
really cold and hot
and cold again and then
we were done on the
street looking back,
looking forward and the
idea and her and the day
were, in fact, interesting
because she was there
and suddenly I was too.

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