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.