Cut the Baby in Half

Loose siding never made a house fall down, but it never helped to keep it standing either. That's what he was. A contrivity of rooms all soldered too close while the ground on which they stood struggled to move.

I always looked forward to saying good night because it meant we were together for another day. We'd put the lid back on that jar and go to sleep thinking it was still ours. I'd dream soft dreams of mercenary fairy tales that took no prisoners.

We'd lay there afterwards in the scoop of the moon as it stripped down to its underwear. Its ass glowing in the failing fluourescence of reason. Its big eyes turning the window dark. Every hello another diaper soiled. Tiny comas filling the spaces between choice and surrender.

I'd always wake up from them the same. Not understanding why everything else was able to change. The cold science of lovers too rigid to convince.

There were moments where forever unhooked its bustier and dared to breathe. The clock set its price. We neogiated briefl for a kingdom neither side possessed. The looking up is easy. Imaginign how high.

It's the looking down that seems to serve no purpose other than to remind us how high we were. Maybe that's life being sagaious. Or maybe it's just random. Like everything is.

Deft Solomon's supply us our past. In perfect divisions.