The fingers have such thin skin. It's no wonder I thought I could feel everything about him through them. But all I ever really felt were bones. Stark and hollow. Hard, but looking soft.
Driving because it's sunny and tomorrow they tell you it may rain. I don't believe their predictions. But still I decide by what they suggest. Even if it's sunny again tomorrow I'll still have had today.
It doesn't ask me if this is what I want to say. My fingers sprint ahead of me as I gasp for breath. Their marathons something I no longer try to keep up with. I stare at its briskly churning thighs and try to comprehend how we are connected.
I'm only the path. It navigates. I am the race, but it is the runner.
In victory and defeat.
and all other finishes.
Draw a ribbon across the finish line in my heart and wait for someone to break it.
Tuesday
5/02/2006 10:39:00 PM
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