White Space

“Oh, baby, this is wonderful!”

“What planet?”

“Fingerpainted.”

“Make it better for me? Let me do what you do?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Is not.”

“You don’t know.”

“Please show me.”

“It burns.”

“I don’t care. I want you to burn me.”

“You won’t be angry if it’s different from what you thought?”

“Never!”

“Okay.”

“Tie me up.”

“Arm.”

“It’s tight.”

“Flex.”

“Put it in me. I want all of it. Every drop. Oh, that is so hot. It burns me, baby. It burns. And I’m swimming.”

“Now you have it. Do you know?”

“Oh, yes, I know.”

“What do you know?”

“I’m swimming.”

*Electric sky crackling egg shell white oh, master! Tree trunk harpoon, tickler branch, pleasure grass and beyond the highway swans gliding in gasaholic ballet all separate in their quiet cells. One drop more and fire! Two drops. Sleep. Three drops: infinity of white space.

*Detective Smith sang to the rolling laboratory crew as it stepped one-by-one out of the van in colorless moon booties and scrubs: “Well, tie a yellow ribbon ’round the ol’ crime scene it’s been two whole hours, not a needle have I seen.”

Sparrows hopped in the weedy fringe of the yard, and the noon sun stood still.

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