How long?

How long ago was it?

It's hard to know.

Years?

Tears?

Changes?

Lifetimes?

Ages?

When did it happen?

When did what happen?

It, of course.

The changeover.

Naturally.

We learn by observation

and experimentation.

What grand life experiment

do you have planned?

And why won't you let me in on it?

I'm living in her, too.

Her... here.

To think of all that's happened

is probably as close to futility

as we can imagine... and yet.

My leg is touching hers.

She sleeps next to me.

I can feel it.

Watch the brow furrow in dream.

Watch the lungs fill the chest.

And exhale to empty it again.

I wish I could collect her in my arms

and ensure she sleeps soundly and

undisturbed, that she finds some

kind of peace in what it really is.

I told her things I wouldn't tell the mrs.

I gave up things I wouldn't normally give.

--Why?

It is unquestionably the most complex

mish-mash of unaccountable events

and uncompromising fatalism I have

ever had the distinct pleasure of being 

involved with, and in a way...

how does one begin something that feels

cosmologically infinite.