And we laughed, and WE laughed, at the poor secretary who had 2,000 crowns at game shows end (did she have to pay up?), just like WE laughed when E.T. died, and when the space shuttle blew up, and all the students freaked out when their teacher failed to be the first one in space...

WE laughed when the old woman who lay prone, just inches from the telephone, calmly recounted that 'she had fallen and not been able to get up' (let alone get down), into her fancy little red microphone.

Unless we took this all seriously, then WE laughed at men in drag, belly floppers, hidden cameras, and criminals coming to justice.

Broken shards of mirror all at slightly different angles, WE think along tangents, and things that for a moment seem important the next seem delusional.

WE know that this one musing does little to slow the momentum of things, and some of what you said about us only felt like half there, so of course it's still dark out here in the cartoon. Share the harvest moon, curl up, in love, in transit, in darkness and hammered like the Gods, the furies.

S/he will come in Rocktober! The goddess comes in the night, sometimes she is a devil, your sister, your lover, your nightmare, a memory, the future, sometimes he is the lover your lover used to love.

And she slips in the window through the dark when you are about to begin dreaming but you know you aren't dreaming when you feel his mouth on your body like gauze.

But not so ethereal as that, because she can f#*k you so hard, so well, and you feel she is making you bleed but you cannot tell if it is your body bleeding or your soul, if he has cracked open your spirit and forced it out of you, and you begin to cry because it feels good but you have never felt so open, so willing, without meaning to be.

And you are afraid she is not real, afraid all those she is aren't real, there in your bed. But you know they all have you, the devil, your brother, your lover, the god, your nightmare. The lover your lover used to love is f#%king you in the blackness and you are broken wide open and you are crying and in a half-whisper you say "yes".

WE are aware that words have consequences, and that in a desperate attempt to bridge our distance with the a feeling of 'realness', a tangible force to break through what WE considered some kind of blissed out and non chalant haze you were in, WE have lost any sense of limits. Oh well. Kiss, kiss (hello Mikey, we love you.)