Silence is an instructor telling me now, what you’re doing and with whom. I am not so dim.
My organs sag like wilted crepes. I am suddenly jowly everywhere. I am a rain-soaked picnic while the tarp above the table sounds like a wet harpsichord about to burst its water belly.
We agreed. We promised to make our partners happy.
I know what you’re doing.
It’s happening right now, isn’t it?
I kick off the lights. I put on music. The moon is trying to call me out for a slow dance and, after a skip of hesitation, I decide to go.
I’m not as busy as you.