Sad Labels:
time travel
The decimal in abstract conditions. Re purposes the number to its agenda. The decimal pierces the core of the sum. Kites without strings. Trundling easily through the wind.
Finding that glorious nothing. In blotted tears and missing skin.
Companions and corks. In half drunk bottles of Chardonnay. Her lips stumbling through the shadows. Like broken crayons.
She closes her eyes and the wine escapes. The world is washed away. She takes up her debate with the arithmetic. But numbers are hardly enough to explain. What is gone. What years have misplaced.