The Metal Heart of the Engine

Force it – it will end up somewhere, streaking through imagined night air in a city that would love me (I would remain hard, indifferent). Force it – hope that just because we have the muscle and the interest, we are capable of business. Poets laugh at economists and all around the same. Here I dreamt a kiss from you was as good as you saying that you’re worried or you miss me – roundabout ways of describing something subtle and inviting, saying step into my life and –

Force it? Maybe not. You only force it when you’ve got to get it started, turn it hard and hope there’s a little bit of life left in the lustreless and deathless metal heart of the engine. You only force it when there’s absolutely nothing else to try.

Ignore it – it will slink away with tail pressed to its gut and sit begging on the feet of someone else who’s given up and if they die that night it eats them can you even picture it? A dog would never do that; a dog would only lick the face a few times for reactions and then howl. The room would seem subtracted from that howl.

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~ by perfectionatrix on November 9, 2011.

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