at the edge of your blade, and always inside the fire
standing naked on the
wide window sill
she struck a match and lit
her cigarette
and dragged deep
listening to the tobacco
sizzling inside
and giving up smoke
“It's not some special gift,” she says.
“I don't hear things
that others can't hear. It's just awareness.
Being aware of the things
others hear but
never notice.”
“Damn,” he said from the reflection
in the window pane. “So
everyone else is haunted. They
hear and see it, but they just
lack the awareness to
acknowledge it?”
She put her head against the glass
and exhaled smoke
on his reflection, painting his barb-wire
limbs gray.
Her good eye fixed on his snake head
with a wet feather for tongue.
She said, “That's right, love.
Now, how about we go and set fire to
a fire station?”
“How will it be different from last
time?” he asked
She laughed. “It won't be. And that's
what makes it fun.
Let's go.”
“I'll be at the edge of your
blade, love.
And, always, inside the fire.”
"Of course."
***
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