Retrospect

  37 years down the road I wish to be a child star. So all of the glamour arrives and none of the glass.
"Doves should be at funerals and not at weddings anymore. At least we know a funeral is final and they didn't even have to swear it."
"How do you make a martini dry, sir? It sounds incompetant."
I want to save the world.

Why does it matter if the Earth revolves in ellipses or if our grass is the right length?
"We're not big enough to see from space, sir.
I've never been surer than this."

"Does anybody want to buy a house finch? There's more bird for your buck!"
They'll douse the fire with buckets of gasoline.
They're all martyrs and they're all widowers being hung out to dry from the spring.
"That was the biggest waste of an hour in my life! ...Let's do it again."
Why do we adorn our fireplaces when they should adorn us?
They had to brush their teeth twice and the ruddy halos still remain in the straw.
He looks forward to writing with a dull pencil when the point is all worn down. Where is it anyway?

"Want to help me rake?" she asked.
"But it's spring... why would that be necessary?"
(That's because she has a tree that blooms in the fall and wilts in the spring.)

What happens when she falls off her stilts?
"My hair is like an oil slick," she said.
(Though I could not fathom why she said that while her hair was clean.)

He had a dull razor. But like his pencils, he prefers it that way. Just like he likes his sex casual and grass in her hair.
The rope was almost long enough to save them all.
He was on records while she was on tapes. And he covered where it hurt with flowers and cigarettes.
"They're roses," she once informed him, a finger on each welt from his father's wrench.
That was back when she always called him "sir". And when he never said much. And when he cried.

She was a broken dynasty: a pageboy cap with dangling, broken beads, some charms, chain and her mother's ruby necklace.
Her mother had died some time ago.

She loved the seesaw and the sleet.
"We're meant to be," she once told me.

She had a three-legged dog named Matches and fed him celery and she always sat hugging her knees.
"No, you're not a vampire," she said. "But you never smile either."

She said "hiss" and "purr" aloud and no matter how ridiculous you thought she was, you still longed to do things her way. Make her proud.

"Let's have sex.
Y'know we're both lonely and we're stuck in this place together. We'd both benefit... No ties or anything. Just casual."
Her smile made him sick but he nodded anyway.
And she was a good fuck.
But she never stopped fingering his scars.