Nirvana in Broken Boxes

Sometimes love is the lottery. Others it's just pocket change. Someone else's Twix callously dangling at the overlook of a foreign train station vending machine. Sometimes sex is just sex. Protracted labia lapping at tiny urethras. Others it's just a consolation prize.

A stiff handshake. After the interview.

Sometimes life comes to us. In unctuous stabs. Both a friend and a liar. Wanting us to give to it. Whatever it is we can. Other times we come to it. Crawling on scabby knees. Hoping it will take from us. Whatever it is we think we have.

Sometimes love is rich. Soft ice cream flirting with plastic spoons. Melting elegantly as we count the grains of sand that keep the water just distant enough not to be a threat.

Sometimes it's huge.

Others it's as small as we are.