There Is Never Only One, Of Anyone

It's Evening, One Of Those Gray Water-color Washes, Like Liquid Dust.

The Way Love Feels Is Always Only Approximate. I Would Like To Be Without Shame. I Would Like To Be Shameless. I Would Like To Be Ignorant. Then I Would Not Know How Ignorant I Was.

Moira Was Like An Elevator With Open Sides. She Made Us Dizzy.

He Has To Find More And Better Ways Of Occupying His Time. His Time, What A Bankrupt Idea, As If He's Been Given A Box Of Time Belonging To Him Alone, Stuffed To The Brim With Hours And Minutes That He Can Spend Like Money. Trouble Is, The Box Has Holes In It And The Time Is Running Out, No Matter What He Does With It.

Maybe That's What Love Is, I Thought: It's Being Pissed Off.