Wednesday 12/13/2006 12:35:00 AM

Sapphire was the color of the day. In some atrocity of autumnal hues it burped itself out from between the dying branches. He was ready with his nail gun. To build upon tomato cages left behind. After the harvest.

She greeted him with a clawed embrace. When he turned away she checked for blood in the moments that laid calmly there. Silently piling up like snow drifts before the plows have come. So certain what was buried wanted to be.

Abstract tug of wars always ending with the same cliche. Dirty faces. Red hands. Holding the ropes long after they've lost their grip.

Drunken ants coaxing their crumbs. In delirious fits of strength not unlike the way we were.

When our skeletons were visible.

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