"Mercy" she responds
In a tone which i can
Only attribute to a
diluted sense of pride
"No, I asked you what your
name was"
A slight tilt of the head
And I see the creases
Unfolding from the
Muscles in her lips
The pantheon of drunkards
and moon lit fairies
Fade away in that instance
And I'm looking at the
target with my eyes shut
The instance drags itself
into eternity and simmers
"Well, you're parents had
a wicked sense of hindsight"
The words clammer off the tip
Of my tongue  
But she's already gone
She was never really here