A little noise, a little space; a little curvature; clicking of connections
together, scraping of missed contacts, pain jammed with speech...
a spill of laughter rolls down the side of its storage jar, spreading,
thinning, slowing...
speech pushed into pain to make it swish...
curlicues of wire in a wire depth, cables trail the ground over distressed
soil...
sea breaks on a ridge of shingle; beech tree creaks against itself; a field
begins to dry and crack...
the talk is wearing thin; the pain sticks out, the drink runs out; the
silence is wet and sticky, echoing inside itself...
nothing fits properly yet
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