He’s asleep in your arms, his spent enthusiasm a crumple of velvet against your
thigh.
Bet Pete won't shoot the feet tomorrow -
And if I'm right, it’ll be the fortieth time.
Do you count everything, Sean?
There'd been exasperation and tenderness in his voice, and you sigh. You’ve
always counted; the years to graduation, the hours before your daughter’s birth -
the thud of angry footsteps retreating toward the door as you cower in the dark.
But there are minutes you don’t ever count, moments that you never give numbers
to.
Because you’re afraid that if you do... they might end.
~~~~~
thigh.
Bet Pete won't shoot the feet tomorrow -
And if I'm right, it’ll be the fortieth time.
Do you count everything, Sean?
There'd been exasperation and tenderness in his voice, and you sigh. You’ve
always counted; the years to graduation, the hours before your daughter’s birth -
the thud of angry footsteps retreating toward the door as you cower in the dark.
But there are minutes you don’t ever count, moments that you never give numbers
to.
Because you’re afraid that if you do... they might end.
~~~~~
| AD INFINITUM |
