Quotably

Enough is Enough. Serially, I've slipped down a dinged-out dream, scoring not once but twice on a meteor of Success. Somehow, I still haven't one.

To Dance With Two Twins by Moonlight
To do the dance is a treacherous trail; to mistake one's steak for another's. Once, take my hand (or hands?) and wrap, wrap, rap on the front door, wooden chimes, knockers brass'd. Forgo this "fucking bullshit". Fry me a frank? Two dogs on the burner burn slowly and char nicely. Stripes mark the ones, once placed down before; they'll be twins in no time.
--Moonlight






Sitting in the back of a taxicab heading through the borders of suburbia. Trees pass and the green of the traffic light appears nine-fold on the plastic divider. Three sets of three triangles bounce with the headlights doubled and walk signs three'd and four'd across two o'clock thirty. The road evens out on either side as he slips over the yellow lines, dipping into the middle of the abandoned intersection. I am siting behind him. Eyes fixed on the mirror, I watch as his lids sputter gently, dwindling down until they are almost shut. He comes in and out, gliding left and right and still I watch his eyes...






I think I hear sex outside. Sex or machinery.