Summer of 2013

t was the summer in Egypt when the nausea returned, when the speculation, the theorizing and the hyperbole didn't stop, when the moral obligation to explain to one's children about "thou shalt not kill" was abrogated in favor of a war on terrorism, when the smallness of people was simply crushing.


One song, two songs, three songs for him to realize that the pillows are three not one, that they too are not fun. He gently swept to the further side, walked slowly so as not to make a sound and went through the door. She waited for him to close her eyes, to shut her breath, to count the minutes until changing the sheets.