He lifted one up and shouted above the hootingand clapping, "What kind of a boob buys this for a Christmas present?"He replaced the items into the bag...as laughter replaced the hoots.Numbers 21 and 22 went without much fanfare. A brass letter box wasswapped for a unidentifiable garden tool, and the last item, a tackyplastic seagull wind chime, was swapped for the coffee mug Ken hadoriginally wanted. All that remained was for number 1 to claim theirprize and Ken could make his escape and go. Your skin is the moon. I've seen it from a distance, almost unreachable, a plain of fair smoothness. I've seen it up close. Have touched you for the first time on a twilight beach. Waves endlessly hissed from the shore. Bonfires in the distance, our friends drinking and laughing. My hand finds its way into yours like a reflex. You giggled when you squeezed my hand, and I dropped my drink. I want my skin to know the feel of nothing else again....And it's happening again. We're parked In the. More

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