Black and white movies
play behind us
As I make you question
The whole **** world.

Mind ****
Is what you call my theories,
My stories,
My questions,
My answers.
“Is that bad?”
I ask you. You
tell me I never could tell
when you were interested
or were telling me it was bad.

I suppose you’re right.


Babe,
you ask later,
as I read,
and you watch the movie,
what is the quadratic formula?

I don’t look up
but I can feel
that **** near perfect smile.
You always do this,
ask me random questions
that aren’t useful anymore
at not least to us.

So I recite it.
And you laugh.
And I laugh.
And we continue being together
Doing different.

You ask me several more
Over the course of the movies and books.
What is flash fiction?
What is life?
What is **** made from?
Do you know that Mark Twain novel—?
Yes, I love your questions.
I love you.

Babe,
you say,
What is love?
I don’t respond.
I want to say another
dictionary definition
but it doesn’t come out.

“Mind ****,” I say.