Tuesday 11/11/2008 02:09:00 AM

The tortoise on its precipice. Thinking down. Imaginary steps. Adding intent to the free fall. As every compulsion is wont to do.

We were discussing politics. Quietly removing the weight of the last eight years. The lonely man with a dead battery in his clock. Sure that the world had stopped. We agreed on so many things. Except how small the world is. When you're not inside it anymore.

We told the moon we were waiting on an actual star. Until it got dark. And we were willing to accept anything.

We had change dancing in our pockets. And dollar bills silently sleeping in our wallets. They'll tell you it's quiet, but they're wrong.

They don't know how big the elephant's shit is. They don't know the burden of the tortoise. Nor the ache in the lion's jaw.

The pillow made of diamonds cutting off his lips.

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