a ghost of both, a fusion

A Ghost of Both, a Fusion

Her face seemed to crack and reveal the full rush of her need

passing dumbly like life itself.... Remember rock-n-roll sexmusic blasting

a young woman whose physical composition made her look like the

strange expression had come into his face again. “After all, the management

just gestured vaguely in the direction of her purse. 'Take what you need.'"

We moved from that clean house with the white walls and into the house

replying to each other: Maybe, maybe, maybe. The silence went

awkward and alien with the missing finger, and the knife kept

smelling like the dusty air. "Trou-ble," she hooted. "Trouble,"

the image of myself in the mirror must never fade into someone.

Someone must have been running a bath, because the

white T-shirt that billowed on his thin chest like a loose sail

waited on the thunder, waited on the thunder.