be what not is
I wanted to not, to isn’t.
Struggling next to her I said that I loved her. She leaned in, kissed me between the shoulder blades.
“I love your shoulders,” she said, through my shoulders.
“You can have them,” I said, I did not want them, “take them. Take my spine,” I said, “I’m not really using it. It is a pole holding up a lump.”
She softly slapped me on the neck and she called me an idiot. I was an idiot, apodeictically.
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