Monday, July 4, 2011

Smooth Folds Elsewhere

The condom had an oddly medicinal smell. We left a single light on. My right ear hurt, as if filled with water. This then is love in the country of dogs.

Your email list is my fond memory. Strands of hair that tickled my nose. A demon stalks one's dreams yet cannot impair the fundamental desire for God. That remuneration.

Grace is knowing there's nothing you need to do. No kisses because of stubble. Yet there were smooth folds elsewhere. Later a new love, a better one.

Musing on errands in days to come. "I thought you were going to die." Our expectations are murderous indeed! In 1987 I invented a drink called what's next.

A childlike obsession with rewards. Even the conqueror feels small when seriously looking at stars. The dog came back bloody after tussling with a bear. We sleep alone and it's okay, it's alright for now.

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