They spoke about the coming and going of the rain- passed a Cabernet back and forth across a drooping bed and at first he kept her distance as she learned against the pillows, I watched it all, how they made eye contact earlier in that destructive way she she likes to toss her head back whenever she departs- and when she did he was watching her saunter off. Later he would touch her anklet gingerly, asking her about it as an excuse to initiate a closer engagement, any by the time the bottle was empty he was leaning over her and panting and full of hope. She surprised me then with fortitude and for hours they wrestled under the stars of the 80s, an old TV boasting Bowie and the likes on VH1.He liked to name them one by one as they lit up the dusty screen and when Material Girl erupted she asked him then to whisper Madonna several times. From her crooked smile I know she had decided she had never liked a word from a stranger so well, and decided also to take him to the roof where she hung from the rafters and let rain glide down her arching back, wrapped herself around him and laughed coyly in his ear when they heard the roosters crow.