Deconstruction requires the knowledge of how to construct, he said.
It’s a luxury of thought and abandonment of structure, she thinks.
He watches her walk and creates fantasies about her wetness
her ability to make him satisfied.
She walks past a man standing near a garbage can
a simulacrum in a suit
so ordinary he blends into the concrete landscape.
They taste each other’s reflections and speak their feelings.
Intent lies softly inside a chamber of the heart,
a site of metastasis.
We glide past each other
rise with the sun
and settle down together in darkness.
We see what we believe to be true and that feels like success.