where the writers are

Jon Volkmer's Writings

 I touch him more than I have to,cupping his chin,lingering along the back of his neck.Bits of him frost the blue bathroom tile,or drift to settle on my shoes. Use the clippers, he barks,not loud.  He lets me do my pseudo-salon scissors thingwith more patience than he has ever shown in his life. And I take advantage, making  each plane and curve an...