Until Broken #70
February 3, 2002

We both knew
but like a Sunday sermon
it was something we never discussed

whatever was given was absorbed
so quickly that it never left any trace 
that it ever exsisted, that in fact sometimes
it did feel good. 

but our love was undefined
and fragile as a sattelite
I think of the cigarette butts in the ashtray;
how they stiffen and become brittle over night

1095 days 
of things never said
21,772,800 seconds
of memories that never 
quite existed
but somehow remembered
between pillowcases
and pipes passed 
between lips
filled with boats of words
that never left the docks
but weathered in the heat of the sun

we; broken sailboats
tied to yesterday 
riding waves that circled
we never asked why
and never looked back
we only bumped and bumped again

until broken.