Ouch

Difficult recollection is a painful remorse; I do not know what to do with my self. She is able to see from a pyramid's eye while I am sworn to organs as a guide. Silence is a wall between us also a harmonious likeness. I wonder if these feelings are lost for hope or delusional for hopelessness. I wonder if my memories will pervade perception for the appearance of now. Perhaps if I continue to wonder this existence may freeze into a moment I cannot experience any further. All I can do is everything for Rolf, everything for Catrixenya, I desire not to stray; devotion carries intellect, my mind is condemned. I am inner tormoil and I am regret.

There is not much of me left; I disappoint an audience, I disappoint my self.

We sit together with our eyes directed away from the door. This moment is an oddity for us and possibly a holiday for a world; we are uncertain of which. Distortion grabbed us for static electricity so we attempt to understand what we do not live. Drones kidnapped our individuality for a numb personality switch but those robots are now intermittent.

"Here she comes."

"I rather not say anything at all to her."

"There is nothing to say."

"Actions...."

"Spoke for us."

"Without words."

Underneath the desk our fingers are playful inside hands. Zen maintains a solid face but I melt for her lips.

A quick kiss for my nose.

She whispers an exit.

I kiss her neck softly while they look away.

We are alone for our care. She tickles the side of my abdomen curve; I sigh warm laughter.

"You two are adorable. Can I keep you?"

"Until they come back."

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

"Can't tell by the way you two act."

"What do you mean?"

"I hate to say it but you are going to find out."

Uncle Moe is a smitten storekeeper for a jogging customer. No introduction is needed while they discuss the cover of a newspaper depicting buildings for possible construction; they share eyes filled with ominous concern. I am not accustomed to relative wisdom.

"What's wrong?"

"We've never seen anything like this before."

Mighty dropped a pizza from a second story rail; the pie lands on a girl. Who captures this occurrence on video, Zoom is an open mouth, I am indifferent, Diesel points a finger, Gusto swears in Italian, Mookie requests a copy, Greeko nods for no, Stunner closes the door.

"What should we call her?"

"Calzone."

His attire for a first date is scooter helmet and gray dress. We watch him from a balcony; the janitor understood our explanation.

"Do you want to get married?"

"Sure."

Zoo York opens the cage for crowds piling into a jungle alley; megaphones mangle mouthing profanities. Our walk leads us nowhere but we rather not join the procession.

"Would you marry him?"

"Who?"

"That damn boy on the motherfucking bike!"

"What?"

"That boy I been telling you about. He ride the damn ugly bike wherever he go. The one who wrote the song inside that dirt.....?"

"Oh....."

"You going to marry him or what?"

"Where?"

"You want to know where the best place to get married's at?"

"No....."

"Why not?"

"It won't happen; thinking about it will just make this feeling worse."

Katarzyna's tear lands on Zoomy's skateboard while he yells out the window.

"Get the fuck off our lawn!"

I am not sure what was there but the sound of his voice is my wake up alarm.

"I dreamed you were crying."

"You were laying with your eyes open."

"Oh....."

Diesel sat me down prior to this prediction. He believed neither of us were present during an act of sadness; our bodies left minds to wander aimlessly into places we never knew existed. I am suspicious of his reasoning and blame myself bathing inside a bath tub full of ice cubes.

"That's got to hurt."

"You're next."

"I got buckets of sea salt instead."

"What will that do?"

"Make me soft."

"What good will that do?"

"I won't be so stubborn afterwards....."

My satire meets cultural depravity for a blue and white geometrical dysfunction. A woman is tossing dishes into a split compartment sink while I slide across a floor several numbers I am unsure.

"Seven....."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Where are we going?"

"I want to show you something."

"I don't like this car."

"It's Japanese."

"It reminds me of something that happened a while ago."

"Did you like it there?"

"I don't remember much about it."

There is a man I use to platform once I reach across. The woman turning around amuses me more than black shoes and buttery floors.

"Tell her she's not Mexican enough."

"What?"

"Just tell her!"

Bloody hell can be entertaining while burning to the ground.

"Do you like this house?"

"Who resides here?"

"Us."

"Shoot me up with that shit and take me back to the god damned motherfucking house."

A shop across the blue and white thing interests her interests with exploited boxes of three and a half inch platform heels; nobody is visiting this location for shoe shopping, she will intervene if I coerce her properly. My muse hops a skip of shaking hips while mall walkers join her curious courtesy of thrifty expenditures.

"Thad....."

"It's you."

"Are you sure?"

"How did you get here?"

"I'm not sure."

"Can you do it more often?"

"A feeling brings me back."

"What kind of feeling?"

"The thought of me."