Romance 8

F: "You know, we should probably get out of bed."
M: "That's a good idea. Best idea I've heard all day. After you!"
F: "No, darling, I insist!"
M: "Ladies first!"
F: "Hmph. Chivalry is dead! Long live chivalry!"
M: "What does that even mean?"
F: "Hell if I know."
M: "I take it you disagree with my proposal for initiative concerning bed departing procedures?"
F: "Consider it vetoed."
M: "I should have known giving you executive power would end in calamity."
F: "Hey, if I recall correctly, it didn't require much persuasion."
M: "I was under duress."
F: "You were under something, alright."
M: "Your dress, duress, what's the difference?"
F: "Consent."
M: [wicked grin, inching closer]
F: [playful shove] "Theoretically, anyway."
M: "Already resorting to violence. Tsk tsk. We'll have secret police and a camera in every room in no time!"
F: [slyly] "Well, it isn't as if it hasn't been proposed before..."
M: "I was against it then, and I'm against it now!"
F: "No, this time that's my foot."
M: "Oh Lord, where's a laugh track when you need it?"
F: "And here you just said no camera. I'm getting mixed signals!"
M: "Hah! Fuck the laugh track, why not a live studio audience?"
F: "Oh, and here I was thinking you'd forgotten my birthday again!"
M: "Your birthday's in March."
F: "I know! You certainly know how to surprise a girl." [wink]
M: [another grin] "I have my ways."
[<>]
F: "Oh. Well. That wasn't a surprise at all."
M: "You saw it coming a mile away?"
F: "Hah, a mile? Don't flatter yourself." [another wink]
M: "A dick joke? I thought that surely you'd denounce the pun first."
F: "Insults over ethics."
M: "Oh, always."
F: "Yes. Always."
[pause]
[<>]
[M's head rests on F's chest]
F: "Mmm... we really ought to get out of bed..."
M: "Yeah... I'll get right on that..."
[Bodily osculation commences]
F: [amused expression] "You don't quite grasp this 'out of bed' thing, do you?"
[<>]
F: "That is definitely not the 'out of bed' thing."
M: "My hands are only so big."
F: "You're impossible."
M: "You're an enabler."
F: "You're crushing my arm."
M: "You'll get over it."
[<>]
F: "You're right..."
[<>]
[F's head rests on M's chest]
F: [sighs] "I wish we never had to get up again..."
M: "Never's an awfully long time, you know."
F: "Yeah, I know..."
[F smiles and holds closer]
M: "Well, never it is."

Romance 7

She knocked on the door, softly but firmly. Then, she waited: common courtesy, a symbolic act of good will with no value save consideration, like holding a door open for an unburdened stranger.

She twisted the knob. Unlocked, of course. He never locked his door. A bastard decision, hybrid of idealism and apathy.

She gently pushed the door open, creeping inside, tiptoeing in everything but action. A muted room greeted her. A room in perpetual, yet slight disarray. Far from ordered, but never to the excesses of chaos. A few books, a few more papers. A glass (or two; empty, of course).

Soft bars of darkened light sifted through the blinds as the storm outside settled into its rhythm.

Thunder rumbled outside. A would-be-roar, the outside world's cry of protest to the isolation of indoors.

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, clank, clank, pitter, patter

"Hello? Anyone home?" she called, still softly, the words more of a warning than an invitation for answer. He was there. (Of course).

She walked, slowly, through the apartment. Inching her way. Crawly, inexorably. She glanced in what few rooms there were as she moved down the hallway, each one a spartan cell, shrines of halfhearted asceticism. Nothing and no one. No huddling form in the corners, no splayed body, strewn on the floor, prostrating itself to some unseen judge. As if he would be so dramatic. No, of course not. Not for the rain.

A crash of lightning sounded outside. But she only heard a muffled snap, hedged by the never-ceasing sounds of raindrops on the roof. A moment of noise in the insistent, persistent beat of sound. Ticking away.

She neared the end of the hall. The last door was slightly ajar, the same dull, natural light not shooting forth like its clear-skies siblings, but almost retreating towards its source, slowly surrendering to the darkness that always threatened.

Slowly, softly she looked in. He was in bed. (Naturally). On his side, knees bent slightly, in an aborted curl. A pillow clutched in one arm, held gently, as if it would break with the slightest assertive insistence, but with a sense of frightful need, a piece of driftwood holding him above water. He didn't look up. He only stared out the window. She couldn't see his face, but she knew the expression. Knew the far-off gaze, the sorrowful eyes, the mournful expression. She knew.

She kicked off her shoes and subtly slid under the sheets, one arm moving around his chest, the other propping her head so her lips hovered right by his ear.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice tender, fragile, barely detectable above the storm.
"Hey," he replied, vulnerability, and the knowledge of it, etched into the syllable.
The rain slipped in through the silence.
"I didn't expect you," he said. (As always).
She smiled, softly.
"I couldn't let you watch the rain alone. I was getting jealous."
His lips rose from their sunken frown, ever so slightly, just hinting at a grin.
"You know, I told you," she said, quietly playful, "to call me when you wanted me."
"Well, you heard me all the same."
"Yes. Well. I suppose I did. Like I said, no one should watch the rain alone."

She placed her head lightly upon the bed, above his, encasing him as they watched the dark rain fall.

You and me.

We'll waltz through the rain, love
We'll waltz through the rain.
We'll dance through the darkness,
We'll glide through the pain.
We'll sigh through the night, love
We'll lie through the eve.
We'll live through the terror,
No smile to deceive.
We'll stand in the rain, love
We'll stand in the rain.
And though it's so dark, love
We'll try to explain.
We'll try to explain, love
The way we can see
A light in the dark, love
Between

You and me.

Going .

To call myself a shard of glass
Would be to call a sailor crass
A "Fuck you, too" to all witty retorts.

To call myself a rust machine
Would be to call all warfare mean
A "Make love, not whore" to all binary sorts.

But to call myself a mess of man
Would be to say "I understand"
A knowing nod to a wink goodnight.

Hey there, ladies.
Do you find yourself wondering
"What can I give to the man
Who has everything?
What can I do
That he can't do himself?"
What can you give to
A high-powered tool
An always fishing lightning rod
A topical depression in the Care-a-been-one (too many times)
A vacation to get away from it all's well that end's
Well, I don't know about that
I don't know that I'd say that
Exactly
We all have problems
Tis better to give
Than to deceive.

I once knew a man
Who burned his house down
Once a week
Then rebuilt it
Once a week
And burned it
Once a week
Said he never liked
Never cared for
Never loved
Where he put that goddamn window
Once a week
But whether it was where he looked out
Once a week
Or how other people looked in
Once a week
I never could tell

Never could tell God's honest truth
Just let sleeping doGs lie.

See those little tricks?
Those little pricks
Just sprinkling
When you want a red, red rain?
Colloquialschisms trying to imply
That I can't say what I mean
Or mean what I say
(Inversion's the most honest way
To say something
With no idea what you meant.)

Parashocks ain't nothin' but a mute turned up.

Let's just say I'm a shard of glass
Pick me up, I'll cut yo' ass
Throw me down
And I'll break up all the more.

Let's just say I'm a rust machine
Break me down, you won't feel clean
Fix me up
And I'll break down once again.

Let's just say I'm a mess of man
You done did all that you can
Love me down
Love me up
Love me
And I'll
And I'll
And I'll

Be a moral man
And you'll shine too bright
Be a clever man
And you'll be too right
Be a broken man
And you'll be too much
Be a quiet man
And you'll be just such
Just such
Just such a bore
Just such
Just such
Just such a chore
Such a fly in the squawl
Be a funny man
And you'll be too masked
Be a sincere man
And you'll not be asked
To dance or laugh
Just such
Just such
Just such a drag
Such a pull down the blinds
We don't want to see no more
We don't want to see
I don't want to see

Be an honest man
Who picks himself up
Watches him shatter
Who builds himself up
And it don't matter
Who eats that apple
Once a week

Who Falls
Down
Who Springs
Up

Seesawseen
Who's always

Going .