A Day Without An Argument Is Like

A Day Without An Argument Is Like An Egg Without Salt.

And Each Stroke Of His Tongue Ripped Off Skin After Successive Skin, All The Skins Of A Life In The World, And Left Behind A Nascent Patina Of Shining Hairs. My Earrings Turned Back To Water And Trickled Down My Shoulders; I Shrugged The Drops Off My Beautiful Fur.

I Will Tell You What Jeanne Was Like. She Was Like A Piano In A Country Where Everyone Has Had Their Hands Cut Off.

Strangers Used To Gather Together At The Cinema And Sit Together In The Dark, Like Ancient Greeks Participating In The Mysteries, Dreaming The Same Dream In Unison.

At The Best Of Times, Spring Hurts Depressives.