je ne sais quoiagainst my chest you make a soft semi-colon as my hips press into yours and you yield like damp paperand against my chest the pulse of us a filament-hum in a sixty-watt bulband my chin against your neck, an impromptu bookstopand your cheek runs against my stubble and it is an embossed leather coverand our noses meetbeads of sweat on my brow roll against yours and we are a printing pressuntil our dilated eyes meet like magnifying glasses and our lips touch like the curves of an