Right of Way

Good enough. It was. For doorsteps. And basements. Infinite loops. Arrange the pathos. Neat little packets. The dress on the floor. A shadow. Not lost. Like all the others are.

It was far enough away that I could want it. Still close enough to hate. Perfect irnoies carved into the darkensss. Wicks of skin engorged on accelerant.

The devil in his sundress. Eating ice cream from a cup. Telling stories. About wars for choice.

I didn't choose. Still now it's mine.

The switch in the off position. The atoms all excited. The balloon I lost long ago fianlly bursting.

It's just paper. Thin enough to see through. It doesn't matter what I write. It's just broken traffic lights. At the intersection I've come to.

No problem.

I'll go first.