Does practice really make perfect?

Wednesday, Oct. 02, 2002 ~ 8:22 AM

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I love her and everyday I press into her. Nina. My fingers are easing a new smoothness in with each pass. I fit myself into the curve of her and she warms against me. And we play. Yet I keep trying... but I can never get her to make that sound. I can never tell that she is pleased with the love songs that we make. I want us to get to the place where we can both open up and spill out richness and harmony. But my fingers fumble.

I doubt that I will ever be a good lover.

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