Wednesday 9/16/2009 01:08:00 AM

Nothing asks. Nothing tells. The long short stories stuck in her throat. She brushes the songs from her thighs. The hollow between her legs remains. She listens harder. The time lines evident. As she circles back to stop herself from asking him again.

The new comes in blunt guillotines. Their heads stare at their barren necks. How long does it take. To know you're dead. How hungry is the flesh that this fantasy still persists.

The child with her basket drawn close to the wolf. The trip through the woods not remembering her footprints. As she cinches the tourniquets on her time machine. Prepared to loose the legs to save the skeleton.

It's my birthday she says to no one in particular. I'm old enough that I can't see the future anymore. It used to change. When I'd stare out the window. I could see them. Strangers flowing like blood. Now there is nothing.

Idling engines pouring their pennies into deaf fountains. Disappearing shadows as the doorway closes. I always thought I could never be this old. I always assumed the physics would see me through.

That all this glass under my skin meant the window would stay open.

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