Thursday, December 29, 2005

the futile search for rhythm in rain-fall.

and something deep within her seemed to pull outward, out of itself and away from her, as if by a metal spring seated in her stomach, that loosened its coils and stretched, hopelessly, toward some urgent, unfathomable destination

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

you fell in love with me when

from the theater we ran boots heavy cheeks red breath shocked into puffs of transient steam ache of limbs windblown in the thin web of fleece to the car my fingers trembled with the suspense of keys the jangle heavyhearted engine roared cracked free its icicles before you pressed yourself to me, wrapped me in your arms, folded me in your chest, that rose, and rose and fell with the splendor of its laughter, that echoed for itself, for ourselves, for each other, laughter for the awkward strides we took in desperation, for that warmth of tangled bodies, hopeless but still holding, an embrace we knew wrought vulnerable by, the distant persuasions of some black road beckoning, beckoning us onward. "onward." apart.