Monday 8/18/2008 12:14:00 AM

Liars with long yardsticks measure the truth in snickers of quarks. Lonely atoms flirting with the surface of the bomb. We woke up the devil from his nap. And now he wants a lullaby.

The square root tells us how. Work backwards from the negative. Solve for nothing. Ignore the rest. Go there. That the future yields to the whims of fickle flesh. Time only a loud heartbeat in empty hands. Life limping from fist to fist. In games of giving away what has yet to exist.

The man on his page. Stabbing hard blank sheets of paper. Ready eyes blaming the emptiness for what he cannot say.

The anomoly. Weak men. Weaker women. Blame the arithmetic. As their numbers dwindle.

So many of us. So few.

I brace myself for the algebra of his touch. A menagerie of zeros. Coo our exchange of skin. A circus of lips claim our faces. As if time still knew. The proximity of when. The nature of the if. The creaky swing. Almost near enough. To catch itself. As I become the one to find her that way.

Still the x is solved to nothing new.

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