Halogen Therapy
(or pausing long enough to catch a bit of air)
Everybody
knows that pricking an aching heart
as
it lay in pieces before you (or during you)
can
be great fun, right? Whatever the case,
that’s
who
I think I am already: a foaming heart (or a
foaming
heartlet). And love? Funnyheartlove is
almost
always fun, brainless, and has many more
names
than seventeen (right?). At seventeen,
for
example,
I had a kiss or two or three. At
nineteen,
however,
I broke through into the night, where I
might
simply have remained a poem or poetry,
another
astrolabe, pausing only occasionally
every
couple of hours just to open my eyes
or
take in some air. My eyes! My, my!
Keep
in mind that neither nobody
nor
I have heard his voice in aprox-
imately
nineteen plus seventeen days
now.
Great fun, right? Yes. Great fun.
