13. That initial coldness, can't get past it, just like on the map, meeting seethes and smashes its breakers-- what protects the towns along her shore when my seashore shacks are in ruins again, terrapins everywhere.

What shall we summon next to occupy the time between us, War, Famine, Plague, what dumbshow in a leotard will prance through here next, what is the lighting cue and what awaits it.

Cold spring stiffening the tulips. Her attractive pain let it go is unhealthy. Her attractive pain, I don't need any more regrets, that's enough. Resolve the unresolved into adieu. Demagnetize the pain that skids across the hours to her attractive pain in starling flocks of mental shavings.

Recycle everything immediately.