Sunday 2/03/2008 12:36:00 AM

We were silicone. Slippery daisies in thick skins. I was at the top. Or close enough. To know I'd never get that far. He pretended to call the ambulance. Rescued wasn't any of the choices on my test.

Memory is a stranger. Thick outlines that pretend to know where to draw. Finding ourselves in bits of broken mirrors. Faulty gods like dynamite with lapsing fuses. They would kill us if they could remember how.

But we already know what's gone. No need for lessons about losing each other.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.