Partial Asides Scene Two

Later on we conceded our flagrant campaign. Dovetails and doilies stained red by the stars as the night blinked on indefinitely from its vast orbit around our lives. Self-awareness and self-centeredness being readily mistakable.

He pushed the words from his throat like massive boulders. High school rushed back in thunder. Bullfinch's mythology. Atlas's shrugging and Icarus's burning up. I never understood him in writing. Only the manipulations bore apparent. Wrong keys feebly charming the locks that defy them.

We were panting in broken fits. Limping toward pleasure with sealed eyes. Closed tight against everything we feared we might see on our way to it.

I was trying life on. So big. Questioning the mirror. It was talking so fast. He'd work up a sweat just thinking of what to say. And then it would all tumble out like toothless kittens. Pity. Love. Where's the difference?

We were calmly calculating the seconds between that last orgasm and the next. Molesting the dandruff on love's shoulders. Hailing sex like a taxi on busy streets. Tiny placards through rotted plastic revealing their names so long after the fact.