IX

"Kick back, against the wall
watch -- life falling fast
like a ball
rolling across -- planes
and i can -- a --
-- in from a part ---
you left open
for everyone to --
the -- moment
--the sun
and the days are getting longer
close your -- baby
-- them but --
see for once
I've told you once before
that love you
but I'll take it back
with no apology."

The place is apprehensive. In McKirney's words, you are not th kind of person that would be at a place like this at this time off the morning. The burgundy couch you've found refuge in spins and spins, opposite the carpet floor, a feeling that is familiar as of last night, yet no more unsettling.. You flip through the pages off your notebook, journal she called it, and come across a poem, scribbled between the lines just two nights prior; the reading of which is difficult as whole words appear written in languages entirely foreign. Now is not the opportune time for the analysis of such a work, but in your current state it seems as good as any. Fumbling through her words once more, you're snagged by the closer:

"I told you once before / that I love you / I'll take it back / with no apology."

Your company this afternoon is docile. The night's events hang heavy on your eyelids, one of which has been swollen shut for the morning, perhaps longer, you don't remember. Your chair is uncomfortable, your book entirely dull. She's here, and you're quiet.

Are you nervous?