Wednesday, January 9, 2008


He awoke into a conversation about inoculate trees.
She stood narrating at the bay window, prosthetic ankle
peaking out from under her blue dress. He felt something
adhere in his hair, stuck his hand in, found the mint
she'd left pressed in his pillow the night before.

"I'm always the last one to find out," he said.

"I feel like you're never around," she said. "When I'm
at work, you're never there. When I'm at the dentist,
where are you? I can't keep my eye on you."

He wasn't sure how long this had been going on or how
long it would continue. "What are you trying to tell me?"
he said. She turned toward him, marred. Her head resembled
a ruby grapefruit when she spit in his eye.

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