Base Ten

In heavy slippers she explored the friction. Old nightgowns teasing the floor. With experiments on broken time machines. And the playing cards left in her hands. The arrogant wagers love tends to make on our behalf. All flat tires. And missing ladders. As she plots her escape path.

The calculus in her head admitting. It's simpler than she makes it. Just part these ocean and walk.

The rare condition of knowing plagues. In dull needles and deep paper cuts. I've always known. It's why I'm here. Attempting to forget. The dark cellars even time is afraid to visit. It's just math after all. A simple arrangement the mind can trust. A neat bow tied on these festering wounds.

I can go anywhere. Then. Here. Now. I've been. Dull pencils drawing on busy skin. Drunken artists arguing with the canvas. The future a threat. Her time machines idling. As she begins to forget.

Dry sponges. Weak wolves puffing. Ambivalent fingers resting on the trigger.

The comfort is in the why. The ugly how we've arrived at this.

The bridge as loud as our crossing was quiet.