Monday 8/31/2009 12:22:00 AM

I didn't watch that movie at all. Sat there. Through the whole thing not knowing which was real. Me or it. It was hot outside. And in. I could count my breaths. Because I had to conserve them. I could feel them running out. Didn't know what to do about it.

I didn't let you undress me. Not with your eyes nor with your hands. But the holes were still easy enough for you to find. Any hole is a place to put your penis. Any hole is to be manipulated. To the fullest extent.

I didn't drink at the bar. Instead I just watched him. As he taunted the time machine. Bits of skin from his wrist to ante. To play a hand he'd never had. Pressing buttons in the dark. Naming villains after gods. Laying down in my bed. A fading erection lost without its vagina.

The words deaf on his lips as I feigned to listen. The picture stalled in his eyes as I pretended to look. For an exit. The story turned. And the pigs took off after the wolf.

Every fairy tale has a time machine. But very few of them work.

I promised to find him after we'd finished filling up our respective hole. I meant at the time. But this machine we call trust is such a fickle host.

I barely saw the movie and then it was over. We slept as close as two strangers can. I could go back. The piglet in wolf's clothes. Except that there is no house left to blow down.

Perhaps we'll start again with this straw.

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