Half an hour___, her skin remembers his , calls back, like an insistent telephone ringing , ringing, buzzing _ do you love me do you love me? do you love me? do you? do ? you love me ? it rings a hyphen to eternity with no terminus in sight.
She's heard that word before knowing he's working it down, and she's __ its merciless, the deaf tone of love.
Love, the long master. And treachery, the little offspring.
The lovers aren't gone, not gone, after all,
they split that's all, they cut out , took off,
hit the road, on the lam.
A little strapped for cash_ and lusty
half-truths,
pistol-whipped by the shaky eaves,
they're gone as
lovers do __ they go go go .
