Sunday 11/12/2006 03:11:00 AM

I posed him. He posed me. Toothpicks at every joint. The morning in our throats as the night filled our skin. There'd be time enough to grieve after.

I counted the footsteps from lamp to door. Drawing the exit in my memory. By both length and width. Two dimensions more than enough to calculate how far.

I filled in the spaces. According to the flow of the pauses. Reverse-engineering every word to fit the situation. There was no changing what had happened. Only manipulating how I would percevie it.

Counting the rotations. As the tires spun beneath us. Taking us there. And leading us away from.

The color of gravity fading softly into the murmurs of the dust. As it settled quietly on rusting railings just outside doors not marked.

But still showing clearly where the names had once been.

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