Calculating the runs in her pantyhose. Counting the steps between love and sex. She consulted the encyclopedia of her skin. Deciphering the freckles she'd discovered since the last time she'd been touched. A million men ago. The grave providing a reason to live. Amongst so many dead things. The disease providing humor where none should exist.
His eyelids weighted. His fingers accusing her. Of wanting. Moments pounding at the backdoor for us to let them in. As if we owe them anything.
The men with their daggers. Blood grooves doing their business. The women. With their gowns. Answering the monsters with broken balloons.
All of us chasing the string.
Tuesday
4/29/2008 12:35:00 AM
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