The question of how to spend all of my time with the one I am married to continues rolling around in my head. There is so much time slipping away. It is a heavy flow. Even as we sit together, the television sucking our eyes apart. The phone burning a hole in my pocket. An expired passport on the shelf above my desk. Paris in the past. Her proposal in an enclosing cove. Children may be an impossibility. A dog that sits in his kennel. Hallmark cards still unfilled upon the shelf for 3.95.

The narrator walks the streets with thoughts in his head exposed to those who follow him deeply. Parisian cobblestone and teenagers smoking on the steps of churches.

Don’t forget about the girl who thinks she’s been forgotten. Clear on the other side of the world. Cut off and maybe dead but for a few favorites here and there, just to let you know she’s breathing.

The dog needs his heartworm pill.

Police are officers falling into their worst fears due their unlawfully killing homicide victims.

It’s a book you’ve got to continue the writing of, a life lived.

I fill out the rent check, referencing the lease on my phone.

It’s a messy shit I make before getting in the shower.

My babe is very concerned with me not being romantic anymore. I used to bring the passion to her life.

I’ve got an idea for an anniversary surprise for her though.


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