This morning I woke up next to the smell of human being – restless and sweaty – covered in piles of cloth and sheets – blowing lungs of breath through pork teeth. Her leg is a heavy thing that locks my knees in place. Hairs go everywhere, wrapping around my neck, through pillow cases, along the hem, between my arm and my chest. When she shifts and rolls her brown hair pulls through my body reminding me that regardless of how occasional our romance might be, right now, this morning I am hers – wedged underneath a heavy leg and tangled in her long brown hair.