He always spoke in coughs. Seizures of words surrounded by so much stillness. It was easy to sense what he would say before I could hear it. The onset of the convulsion briefly paralyzing the air between us.
It's not unlucky. It's just life. Being coy again.
I never knew anything until I knew him.
It's dark enough to say it now. Let the walls shed their color. The press of time smoothes every wrinkle.
The limp in his strut. Very subtle. Hard candy conversations melting on my tongue. Sweeter than they should be.
They last too long, but leave me with nothing.
And he offers a whisker, when all I want is a claw.
Dig in.
Wednesday
7/26/2006 11:59:00 PM
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