Monday 3/16/2009 12:23:00 AM

The awkward. The torn thumbs of the teddy bear. Grasping. Ribbons of when. The cold transmission. The clutch clean. As we threaded the engine. With gravel and rest stops too close to fiction.

The concert in her underwear. Applauding him. Vectors. Submarines coming to surface. The torpedoes in her pants. Little women. Big girls. Time on their tits. In morbid revelations of the skin.

Finding the zipper. With her broken thumb. Pulling it open with her missing fingers. The fist pretends to know her. Memories she has of holding. Things she never did.

The rain. Perpetuating an ocean not deep enough. To drown. All these dead things I say I am.

Teasing the clutch. Well below her toes. The gas. Smothering the engine. In so many places she's yet to go.

men on her doorstep. selling installments of heaven. in small doses of hell.

She swallows their medicine. But is more content to see the disease prevail.

Time is weak. Time is deaf. But flesh hears. Everything.

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