Thursday 12/04/2008 12:06:00 AM

Come home she dared him. Her pastry lips gathering the icing from his pants.

Look! He shouted. From his centrifugal cloud. It's all a wish no one can grant us. A bad song stuck in our heads. And the only words we can remember are us.

Play. The kitten said. Claws stuck to the carpet. Deal. The lobster insisted. Fumbling with the deck. The bets came rapidly. The pots swelled and vanished. Until everyone was too drunk to care.

She lost her sight on a pair of aces. And won it back on a bluff. Little tourniquets in the corners of the room. Color in her wrists. The hours come in fervent itches. The years in a pussy rash.

Leave. Turn the engine over on those tears. Move.

Talk to the teeth. Bald cadavers digging through our gums. Mercy is in the fangs. Sharp. Precise. Love is in the molars. Chewing. Grinding. Eager to swallow.

I'm not her. Hard pockets of chewing gum under his clothes. To make us wonder. Why the hunger still is. The rook on the edge of its square. Too linear to capture his king alone.

He waits for the bishop.

Impotent.

He assumes the game has rules.

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