No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse.
                                             Eve

I'm sure red's a better color for me.
                                              M. Monroe

She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.
                                              Ulysses

N­ow that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest
guy on Earth.
                                             D. Trump

You're too Jung to understand the Superego.
                                              S. Freud

No. You keep it. I have enough.
                                              B. Graham

Are you sure that's the Delaware?
                                              G. Washington

E=Mc Donalds.
                                              A. Einstein

Go pound salt.
                                              Gandhi

Wha­t day is it?
                                               Roosevelt

T­hat's one small.... oops!
                                               N. Armstrong

I don't remember any of my dreams.
                                               M.L. King, Jr.

Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.
                                                Jesus

Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?
                                                W. Churchill

Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.
                                                 R. Starr

It's just too big to wrap your brain around.
                                                 S. Hawking

Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.
                                                  Robespierre

Before I was fined, I walked the line.
                                                   J. Cash

Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?
                                                  Tolstoy'­s editor

What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?
                                                   H. Ford

I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.
                                                   ­Oppenheimer

I've never liked orange juice.
                                                    N. Brown

Really? You want to blame me?
                                                    ******

He stings like a butterfly.
                                                     S. Liston

#timesup #metoo
                                                     A. Boleyn

Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?
                                                      Bell­

Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.
                                                      R­.W. Sears

To be or to do be do be do.
                                                      Shakes­peare/Sinatra

When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin *******.
                                                      E. Whitney

We're the team to beat!
                                                      Toro­nto Maple Leafs

Don't call me a Mother!
                                                      Mo­ther Theresa

Is that a Cuban*?
                                                      M. Lewinsky

The salt envies my lips,
jealous of your tongue
when it wants more
longing for yours
craving slow soft moist caress

It melts in the sharedness,
sparkles in our breath,
a crystalline melt of desire
stretching the flavor in timelessness
fusing in sweet a figure of eight
of our tongues’ thirst

It speaks our secret language
teaching new grammar;
it weaves our thoughts in scarves
spilling cool ambrosia,
warm in our veins

I saw you,
Once.
You had a name,
Once.
A home,
Once.

You were held within my womb,
Once.

But you never got a breath of air.
You never got to know your name.
I never even knew you where there
Until it was too late.

I had you for five weeks.

It was too short.

Today, I said goodbye to a fertilized
Chicken fetus
Living in the shell
Of an egg I cracked.

Two lives
I never meant to take.

I held a funeral for them
In my back yard.
Burnt what we had,
Wrapped in paper, cloth, and incense.

Gave him a name. A headstone in our yard.

I wish I had done that for you.

I'm so sorry.

I want to feel our lips fit the way a puzzle shifts from a blurry image to something perfect 'cause when nightmares aren't clinging tightly to my lashes it's your smile that flashes brightly against these worn screens, softly hushing my tossing, turning screams; lifting me to clouds of peace where I'd strangle stars to fulfill my **** dreams to feel your arms around me and have your hands travel my body, like a nomad looking for a habitat to rest at finding my breast's beat comforting enough to fall asleep. The way your breath would sing lullabies to me, untwisting the fright that tightens the muscles of my shelled mind. I'll unlock the door and let you inside if you promise not to rearrange the furniture behind my blind eyes. I'm accustomed to counting tiles, so bare for me the ones that live hidden by your lip's smile and I'll bury the number inside of my skull and won't ever find the courage to let that number go.

-SLuR