flies circling around the smooth metal. right in front of his house. we're stuffing chocolate bars into our mouths till our fuzzy teeth implode. i don't remember what it is to be full; i need something always on my tongue (in my throat). the bike is one leg and the pole another. i'm missing that blurring, that inseparability. i saw the way they tumbled to the concrete, waving the camera the whole time. i've seen how her eyebrows call to eager hands.
all so easily impressed. i thought you'd understand, but maybe our language barrier was thicker than i knew. i glow when i want to. sometimes i just glower.
the taut tense sinews of you. the amiable acquiescence of me. there's nothing else to know.
he says it has to do with cheerfulness, and i think he has a point, but it'd be nice to eat an apple without bruising my lips. the past sometimes takes us with soft hands.
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