She allowed the midnight shadow to slip through her fingers.
She took a sip of caffeine
And described the
“Existential, sporadic, reality”
I kept track of all the times death was mentioned,
By using the edge of a nickel
To scratch tally-marks onto my fingernails.
“So, what created God?” I asked her.
Before the answer. Something beautiful happened.
A spider descended from the ceiling
On an invisible wire.
It dangled above her head.
She yelped like a suicidal dog!
I buried the spider with a pinch.
“Guess that answers my question.” I said.
“Shhhh…” She pressed her index against my chapped lips.
“You just think I am here. But you’re alone. You will die that way.”
I reached for the nickel.
I looked down for a second
And when I looked up
She was gone.
The T.V. was turned off.
I saw my reflection in the blankness of the screen.
I sat there waiting for a sitcom to start.