gulf raze on carpet curls a long grey vine that terminates in the shape of a heart. i tug on tensile teeth to trace its author and find her in the church of the recent past. she can bully a book into becoming a film without raising her voice. what she can't do is make a choice that isn't driven by the algorithm. she's told to move away from me. not so far that we can't speak. only so we aren't near enough to touch. she slides across the seat we share until we only have ourselves to hold. love is not a large enough word to negate the gulf between us. but it's the only one that matters now. 260921 what's it to you? who go blather from