A Waking

Somewhere warm and close
We wake. In the morning, late.
Hello. How are you? Okay.
And so they smile, all three Fates.

In this new light, eyes sore.
Both fear and morning breath ignored.
You lean to kiss, and then some more
We never lived like this before.
You are loved, and I, adored.

Words escape me, then from me.
Ones I thought would never be.
I can see, that the one for me is you.
Always has been, and always will be.
So don't ever leave.
Please?
Of course, you agree.

And though time will fly
We'll never die. Well, at least we can try.
You stare at me and, "Doing well so far", you chime.
A smile follows, oh so sly.

And so it goes.
We wake. We stay. Slow to part, refuse to go
Remain undressed to tickle toes.
These are the days we'll always know.
Sleeping in and laying low.

Thoughts on Traffic

There they sat, embedded in the five o clock traffic stretching like a river, once teeming with life, now frozen solid in mid-January.
Fish and all.

And there they sat, like grown up children eager to go home.
A.D.D. making them fidgety as they imagine how, if only their car could fly, they would soar home in eight minutes, miles above traffic.
But gravity is a stubborn and effective force.

"Who Cares?"

It was a rhetorical question she threw at me before walking away.
A gramatical sucker punch.
A curveball made of words.
A land mine of language.
Her bear trap diction

See here's the tricky thing about rhetorical questions:
They are, technically, questions, as they begin with a who or what and finish with an eroteme.
And yet at the same time they are not questions as they do not invoke a response.

Had this been the case I would have called after her, "I do!"

Rhetorical questions are broken sentences.
Like a record, playing the same three seconds of a song over and over agian.
A voice once so beautifully harmonic, now childish and wearing.
Instead of asking for information, they proudly announce it.
Her question of "who cares?", let me know, that she didn't.