between the offers shifting sands licking squid under a heyday dalliance we paid for in bright brewers yeast. "kiss me", she cried and i ate asparagus, clementine stroking my boots with her grizzled armpits, picking up hitchhikkers on the way. my left nostril clung hopelessly to shore, whether the demons were deepest in the morning or her eyes wetness followed less close, and i threw myself on a port-a-potty and stood in for the grand scheme, twisted beyond all repair. a fourth wind cried to the flautist, whithering the sand-pocked drapes in whitened dental floss picked from the toenails of mountain goats -- which way the third dimension, after the first time folds lifted us from the plains?