while the kettle is close to whistling.
Agathe ain't jealous of the girl in my blog
even though she asks about "her" here.
I see the particles of Agathe's harpsichord
for the first time in a long off and on love.
I kiss someone else.
I am a Romeo Sid Vicious.
At Trader Joe's, we dance but don't speak,
picking up cauliflower rice and pork belly,
silently wondering if this is right,
but we are hanging on.