your contrary nature intrudes on my spine so i press closer and oversubscribe to your oversights.
i close my eyes until redemption songs, car bombs, evolution and bravado fill the space between my lips and my battle cry.
you batter at me with your carking doubts and your carnal knowledge until i consent to your gateway drug, your groupthink, your Gruyère.
gypsy moths smash themselves into the light and their homogeny is depressing so you tell me stories of gaucho goths, blushing vicars, blooming ghosts, surgical procedures and docile animals waiting for little deaths.
i ask for a do-over and with epiphanic generosity you forgive my feckless feminine caritas and we entwine and we drink and we find in this bed some tidy vanity, a tangential resolution and the rabbit's foot that we had been looking for all along.