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You once accused me of thinking that making love was like good conversation – if you were having one, why not have another?

I felt confused, because you made it seem as if I was casual and dispassionate about the conversation and making love, and glib in thinking I could have it with anyone. But I was not glib, I thought that good conversation and making love were both very precious and very rare and not very easily had with anyone at all. It was only that I was trying to have the best of both with those individuals who might attempt to meet me half way. I think you were hoping I’d stop talking to other people. And eventually I did. But later, you stopped talking to me too.

And we sat in companionable silence and I was having one conversation without you, and you were having one conversation without me.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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