The Dissolution

The distance between two people, measured in geographies and histories of battle.  Old treatise locked into the confusion of argument, the sane babbling in just as much nonsense to the insanity of understanding.

Locked in a rose, federal papers with coffee stains, old files and the 1970's image of a cop at a used city desk as the old "landline" rings with annoying bells.  

Something sordid about that old college girlfriend.  Dirty bruised knee, clean clothes, face with that unclear complexion indicative of drug and alcohol usage.  Was it even necessary?  Those days and nights on blue mattresses as the sun would enter with that beat up alarm clock playing the Shins in those drunk dream days, nights passing over and under us, stars and atmospheric disturbances, disturbing talk at quiet parties in those days.  Siamese cats, sickness, open windows, dead birds, and a drunk guitar player.  The television only added to that confusion.

There were fields of tall grass that itched in the summer heat.  We had a keg outside in a dirt pit filled with ice, someone earlier had thrown wine in my face.  These memories are better kept to myself.