He thought a long while
about the weeks.
Recent weeks, weeks long past,
weeks to come.
Time was always a forgotten necessity.
Cool blue water hardly
protects anyone.
Who knew? Who knew?
Not him.
He dreamed while bathing in the dimming August sun-
about silk strewn across the floor and
betrayal and
the blinking emerald
eye of a cyclops.
Forever was a thing he idealized.
So were flowers and people and her.
and the way he looked at her-
as if the world could stop turning
yet he would be content to just
bathe in her presence forever.
His life was idealized,
the green paper, the sneaking lies,
the stiff men that pressed buttons
buttons
buttons.
But if he could grasp this one thing,
this dainty flower, he could have real satisfaction.
he was dreaming and grasping
and then the phone rang.
But he didn't answer it.