ccclxviii. the tenth joyful mystery

we went to visit your friend who provided us with ammunition. she yapped on about her bone structure and stared at me like i was a vietnamese girl with norwegian hips. we were now, candidly, ortho.

cccxlvii. good samaritan

outside the gym, i left three coins in a damp, old shoebox with a photograph of your dog inside. the lid was kept together by a red elastic band. i kept on driving in a straight line while the birds tweeted over my head.

cccxiv. all set

sound waves bounced against their polished walls. we didn’t expect such lavish security, as the cameras caught every millisecond my eyes made love with yours. our fuzzy hearts were ready for gluing into dusty romance novels.

ccc. zoo

the following four accidents were systematic. the night sky was empty contrary to the cotton monsters that hide in our trouser pockets. we were mice against drowsy snakes.

ccxci. subject-verb agreement

the yard bull’s bullet was drawn to your chest like a magnet to a fridge. time couldn’t stop this affair. i was looking for adjectives and pronouns, but i could only cough up commas and semi colons. no aspirations.

ccxxxiv. as fast as wheels can turn

there was no full stop. i fled and drove for what felt like years, thinking about things, like how you lay while you were asleep. i only stopped for gas and that odd urination.

ccxx. smooth criminal

the blueprint presented robbery on low security hair salons, beauty spas and plastic surgery clinics. the sirens picture me and you slipping off into the background. gently.

cxcix. illegal assembly

we assembled on the bed and sketched out a dirty plan: while the environment was overflowing with game show chuckles, the heteroclite piano dwelled inaccurately, humming along to songs that we used to grasp. they will not be able to mask us as forgivable.

clxxxv. incognito

i searched for you on the www, but there was no sign of you. i’m glad you called.

clxxvii. misty frequencies

you were driving against harsh headlights while i drifted off into a haze, where gauntly ballerinas cut their feet off and sold them to nba stars as food and ornaments. i awoke to the sight of a salmon aurora.