There is this guy. I will call him the Glassblower. I wrote a poem about him, back last year when we were dating. That poem is at https://eroticapoetica.wordpress.com/2013/02/17/blow-me/
The Glassblower, unlike my Colombian lover, or my would-be fiancé the Hyderabadi Nawab (who I have not written much about yet here), sits on the periphery of my love life. He is almost not involved in it at all. And yet every once in awhile he floats to the surface of my dreams and becomes a preoccupation for me.
I originally met him at my gym. My gym is not a fancy place, probably pretty standard for a gym, but in addition to exercise equipment it hosts a spa area with sauna, steam room, hot tub and indoor and outdoor pools. The outdoor pool is pleasant, hidden off the street in Pleasure Point (a popular surfing spot); it is flanked by palm trees, pools…
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