January 28, 2002 | 5:40 PM

So I think it�s time we talk about Angus. Because Angus happened the night before I moved to Penny�s studio and in a way he�s been happening ever since.

The experience spins itself out over and over, if only in the exposition. It�s an About�To- Happen or a Should�Have-Happened that only happened once and never again.

But it�s also a Could�Happen that almost happens every time we meet. And this Could-Happen hangs in the air, a fog that winds around our bodies and curls into our eyes, confusing and delighting us.

You see, we can�t just let the possibility go that this Could-Happen might happen. We cannot distill this Maybe into the residue of Never-Again.

So let�s go back in time then, shall we? Back to the first time. The only real by-the-book-time. Back to May of 1998.

Angus and I were in a bit of a tiff. We were good, good friends and he�d asked me to be his roommate prior to Penny�s invitation. Initially I had agreed, but after talking it over with Eric, I realized that this would be a bad idea. Angus was the worst drunk of anyone I knew. He was an outrageous ridiculous drunk who pissed off half the city of Boston with his intoxicated antics. And although he was sweet, loyal, kind and intelligent, he was also highly unpredictable and emotionally volatile. I�d spent too long putting my Humpty-Dumpty self back together again and wasn�t about to assume a perch on the proverbial wall with Angus or anyone else for that matter.

So I told him I changed my mind.

And he considered it a betrayal.

And we spent a month or so ignoring each other.

At first I didn�t care. I, after all, had finally proven to myself that I didn�t need anyone. I certainly didn�t need the friendship of some drunken raffish lout whose unfortunate habits included crying into his Guinness at the end of each evening and attempting to steal cell phones off innocent albeit meatheaded bar hoppers.

But remorse crept in and I sat in my gray cubicle stealing glances at Angus through the glass of his office. I spent time studying his face�such a lovely face. And finally I caved. I asked him to dinner.

We went to Guihuma after work and sucked down our supper through colored straws. Giuhama has 13 different types of scorpion bowl�a deceptively sweet fruit flavored punch served in large bowls doused with enough liquor to anesthetize a small town. Angus and I decided to try all of them. Betwixt and between ingesting these magic concoctions, we made up. We apologized. We swore on our undying friendship and agreed living together would have been a lousy idea.

We spent hours and hours drinking and discussing. Our fingers entwined. We closed the bar. Upon our leaving I attempted to stand up without much success. Angus, having had far more practice than even I in the art of intoxication, was sober enough to drag me from the restaurant and into a taxi.

It was supposed to be my last night at Eric�s, but Angus wouldn�t hear of it. Besides, Eric was out of town and there wasn�t really any reason for me to stay in the apartment all by my lonesome.

You�re staying with me tonight. I don�t want to let you go yet.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

And I didn�t want him to want to let me go either.

Through the thickness of my stupor, it occurred to me that I was feeling something about Angus that I hadn�t felt before. Yes he was handsome�magnetically so in fact. He was tall and slim and had a strong angular face. His eyes were gray but flooded with green hues in certain lights, like rivers tumbling over sheets of granite.

Of course I�d always found him attractive but he was my pal. My partner in crime. My confidant. My dear, dear friend.

I was so used to not wanting anyone besides John. The possibility that I might have romantic feelings for Angus was not welcome. I refused to entertain it.

We arrived at Angus�s and climbed five flights of stairs. The climbing sobered me. Upon entering his apartment, we both agreed that a drink was in order. Angus retrieved two beers from the fridge and we pulled out the fold out couch and lay on our backs. We took swigs from out Budweisers and listened to the Who. Neither of us spoke. We lay like that for what seemed to be an eternity.

I tip my hat to the new constitution

Take a bow for the new revolution

Smile and preen at the change all around

Pick up my guitar and play

Just like yesterday

Then I get on my knees and pray

We won�t be fooled again

And slowly we moved closer to each other until we were entwined. He held me in his arms and stroked my hair. And again he kissed my forehead. And then my eyes. And my neck.

It all felt natural and clean, the friendship flowing into something sweeter, needier. Something poignant and true. Camaraderie and romance bled into one another seamlessly.

I opened my lips to meet his and our mouths were caves the dark secrets of which had never been explored.

Our movement was a sonnet; our bodies rhymed.

We were each other�s oceans and waves of joy and desire eroded the cracked sadness in our souls.

It was magic.

And he said I love you again and again.

And I said I love you again and again.

I fell asleep in his arms and dreamed I was on the boat in Hokusai�s The Great Wave of Kanagawa , only I was alone on this boat, rowing against inevitability.

When I awoke, he was already gone.

Stay tuned for Part the Seventh...

* Yeah�I know technically this doesn�t have anything to do with an apartment except in the most liberal sense of the word, but it follows along the time line, so forgive me.