Things come up
   in conversations.

Things that make
   you giggle.

Things that tax
  your patience.

Things that make
   you wiggle.

Words you used
   in jest, so small,

Words can change
  to wrecking *****.

Choose your words
  with care.

Words can travel
    anywhere.

We dined in starlight
    on the dark side of the Moon;
with rich white cloths
     and fine silver spoons.

The silent ghosts
   of our former lives
danced like newborn moths
    above our knives.

And the stars wore white mink stoles.

We shivered in the air.
   It chilled our veins.
We chatted over old dreams,
   still warm in our brains.

The planets quivered
  in the arctic air of space.
I studied your smile,
   your laugh, your face.

All the ice-cold breezes
   swept away your sighs.
All the bone-chilling winds
     gave freedom to our lies.

We dined in starlight
  on the dark side of the Moon.

And the stars wore white mink stoles.

Our four sable eyes, fat with sleep,
from vivid dreams that made them weep,
       slowly rose to life newborn
   to a silent summer morn.

Our four arms stirred from the core,
   like driftwood on the shore.

The night had slumped away.
It's black, foreboding form of play
   had left us drawn-
   slack, and unprepared for dawn.

But there was life yet in our bones.
    Hope.  Desire.  Will.

We had not yet died,
     though still.

And we had not yet
given Death our parts,
  to work with
    in his rigid arts.

summer days.  
carousels.  
cotton candy schools.

bad kids in bathing suits
******* in the pools.