Monday 11/06/2006 11:17:00 PM

There was the low hum of a failing fluourescnet in his throat. The stale pink of a sky about to blizzard in our silence.

I ordered the chinese for delivery. And then we waited. Paralyzed at the stopllight we had created. Swallowing those strangers in starving gulps. Their cotton candy personas melting predictably into our tongues.

Just sweet enough to ignore the thirst.

As we thumbed through the patterns for a suitable foe. Soliciting a pergatory that could never be as perfect as the ones we'd come from.

Maybe it wasn't the food. So much as the chopsticks. How they make every bite taste like wood.

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