The world returns. In desperate winces. Cover our hearts in skin. Play us. Like drums. The alien looks on from his mediocre temple. The world deprives us of ourselves. Bit of chewing gum. The sugar slowly excreted. Until only the dense hull is left.

Still. It keeps chewing on us.

He cried he wanted friends. I was insulted. That he should suspect I was still so naive. He bemoaned his loneliness. An empty grave searching for a corpse. Throwing stones on the hopscotch board. Pretending it mattered where they would land.

Anyone. Or any square. Self enough. For the man without a mirror. For the wolf without a child to eat.

The world weakens and I plan my escape. While it struggles for breath. Prosaic warnings fail the determined. I want to know. How much they suffer.

I want to wake the doll. Rip the lipstick from her grin. Blame her for everything. As all men do. I want the minutes to wait. Listen. When I try to explain.

How close I once was.

And there. There is the drug. The obvious math.

The dog wasn't barking loud enough. Tail in a knot. Just a little bit of time machine to get us back. To where we started.

Then. If. Never. More.

Sad people. Arguing with capricious raindrops. Screaming in the thunder. Naked next to the lightning. Bad Cinderella poisoning her prince's kiss. Just one more dial. Another chance. To prove to myself I was a lie.

I slept so long, but never had the dream. The ladder at her window. The fire in her bed. As she pressed the button to send them back. No Einstein. No math. Just empty hands. And squeaking stairs.

To calculate.

The rip in her dress.

All the things that are small enough to change us.

The world in gauze. Beautiful wounds to dress. The film a microscope. To find the smallest holes. In any man.

I see the moon. She said. And it sees me too. Like whiskers on a cat. It feels. For a way to escape the evils of curiosity. I hear the dog barking. Discontent. That it has lost the scent. Of all the flowers we dug up. Before this barter began.

He stares. She listens. It's over. Her pants are gone. In wild fireworks. Her thighs erupt. Wanting what is not there. The magic of failed men not escaping her stare. She draws the pictures. In thick pencils rarely sharpened.

You're alone now she presses. But I couldn't change that. Nor all the suicides I've seduced.

I'm alone now. He acquiesces. A bear. With the Goldilocks asleep in my bed. I can only assume. She wants to be eaten.