Today I will talk about pleasure like it’s allowed. I will talk about it like I talk about my morning breakfast. I will equate your touch to the feeling in my stomach when I see a million birds flying across a sunset-colored sky. I will tell you how your fingers on my thigh remind me of the sun-kissed flowers falling on my skin during spring. I will try to explain to you how I feel about being touched in ways I hope you will understand. I will remind you, today, of the feeling of the low tide waves washing sand off your toes. I will make everyone feel like I feel. The ecstasy. The eccentricity. The absolute normalcy. I will make clear to you the tangibility of the feeling when I tell you it really is the same thing you feel when you eat your sunny side up on toast on a Sunday afternoon.
