She made

dialogues

made vacuous by

repetition never

fulfilling them

selves. I can’t

seem to reconcile

what is

what think it might

be.

He makes

palindromes of

sexuality read it

backwards and

forwards

the same

way.

Everyone is

making

big mistakes and

littler white lies

whited out

truths

dried in

air conditioning

melted again back

down down down to

tears in heat shallow

breathing.

We make ourselves

inflections

of voices a whole

world embodied in one

body

too many bodies

anybody out there?

She makes peach

pie lips fuzzy soft

sweet sing song words

giving her soul cavities for their

sugar.

He made promises

of cherry pit stomachs turned

rancid before

could even step

out the door.

We all make

too much

and

create so much

and

wish so much

and

want so much

and

repeat so much

her dialogues

made fluffy soft landings

for the crushing blow

of what the

connections always

turn out

to be.