Albert couldn't help himself. "You're a what?" he asked abruptly, hoping he'd misheard her."A sex poet," Hannah repeated. "It's the big growth area in...poetry. You don't write about landscapes, flowers or whatever these days. Some poets write about urban squalor and drugs and stuff. Like rappers only without the twelve inch discs. Some of us write about sex." Sex?" Albert wondered, carefully steering his jeep to avoid the carcass of a dog sprawled out across the road. "How can you find anything. She was also so very warm. I could smell her, not perfume or the stale air of the room, but her. Her skin, her light perspiration from walking her rounds, her. The scent moved through me and with a deep inhale, I felt invigorated. Almost instantly, I felt better, but that feeling also quickly started to fade.The nurse's curious expression shifted to steady observation with my actions. She watched me closely for problems but at the same time was interested in what I was doing. I didn't know. More

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