What Began It All Was The Bright

A Postcard. Neat Handwriting Fills The Rectangle. Half My Days I Cannot Bear To Touch You. The Rest Of My Time I Feel Like It Doesn’t Matter If I Will Ever See You Again. It Isn’t The Morality, It’s How Much You Can Bear. No Date. No Name Attached.

Some People You Just Had To Embrace, In Some Way Or Another, Had To Bite Into The Muscle, To Remain Sane In Their Company. You Needed To Grab Their Hair And Clutch It Like A Drowner So They Would Pull You Into Their Midst. Otherwise They, Walking Casually Down The Street Towards You, Almost About To Wave, Would Leap Over A Wall And Be Gone For Months.

In Canada Pianos Needed Water. You Opened Up The Back And Left A Full Glass Of Water, And A Month Later The Glass Would Be Empty. Her Father Had Told Her About The Dwarfs Who Drank Only At Pianos, Never In Bars.

There Was A Time When Mapmakers Named The Places They Travelled Through With The Names Of Lovers Rather Than Their Own.

The Rulers Of The Country Generally Believed That Betting Eliminates Strikes. Men Had To Work In Order To Gamble.