I’m a quick learner but a slow knitter. I’m a fan of left kidneys and smoking mermaids. I’m the chancellor that never stopped taking chances. I thought the best parts of me were armaments, accomplishments and achievements. I was struck by the tyranny of the world’s sharp edges.
When I looked at you, I thought that you and your legs need to spend some time apart. You were a refreshing lemon fog in this abattoir. You were a magnet for other people’s sadness. You were silly-string theory reminding me that everything was hilarious in some way and laughter was the vibration of the universe.
Our relationship was as amorous and it was arduous. If you had a valentine for me, you sent it to me care of an arrow addressed to the field of battle because that was the only place I was at home.
When you and I made shadow puppets against the wall with our hands on that first night, I didn’t realize until later that I made predators and you made herd animals. Looking back, it makes sense.
Nice only counts in burn wards and hand grenades. Clean only counts in elections and kitchens. You learned what all Eves learn. You can’t put a saddle on a snake. You sank to the bottom of the ocean because of your heart of gold while my good conscience cried on my shoulder.
Caterpillars are caterpillars for months and butterflies for days.
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