April 8, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush,

For instance, tonight: A quiet moment spent rubbing salve into her belly, hoping that my hands, my gentile touch, and the medicinal, healing herbs in the lotion, would ease her pain from the constant stretching. Slowly my hand moves from large, sweeping passes across her belly into the slightest, faintest tracing of her impossibly rounded body with just the tip of my ring finger, and I tell myself: remember this.



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