I imagine it could be like this:

Like looking into a mirror reflecting into another mirror, and then the mirror begins to slide, and before you have even understood that you are looking into a mirror you realize that instead, you have a kaleidoscope.

The components, you suspect, remain the same, but they fall together into different shapes with just a tiny shift of circumstance.

And so he is warm and open, and then he is stiff and closed--and so she is stiff and closed, and then she is warm and open.

Another shift.

He is still stiff, but opening. She is still warm, but stiffens a little to reach for something.

And there is another shift, because things are still fluid.

They clash against each other.

Shift again.

But there is an understanding somewhere, a recognition of the same parts.

And then there is a moment of overlap, of warm and rough and loud and caring and skin just gritty enough to catch but just this side of sandpaper. And someone laughs.

And the shapes keep changing, but with a knowledge, now--not an understanding of the shapes, perhaps, because a shape is circumstance. But a recognition of the colors--this blue, that red--and instinct says that these are the attractive parts of each other: colors that are familiar in shapes they have yet to try on.



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