Rejane looked back at him with her unchanging, almost black eyes, in which no expression was legible, although she was watching him with a new interest. Strange how he suddenly seemed to have come alive, thrown off some repressive burden. This sudden emergence of intensity and imagination, in conjunction with his solid, manly good looks, was surprising and totally unforeseen. His face, animated now, had that touch of seriousness that had so captivated the army wives- she too found it attractive. I had a vision of everything I couldn't care about falling into the sea. Soft voices, in another tongue, almost tender at the corners of the hello kitty mouth. If you could watch every home movie ever made about love. No doubt already decomposed and posed in foreign rituals of another time. I bit my tongue. I knew them in a past life, was it her life or only my prickled skin when I catch sight of the already dead pictures. Rejane gazed on her witch reflection in a melted puddle. He was horrified by the sight crushing his dream in tailored shoes. The sea never meant it either and it doesn't come to get her. She was Regina in A Scarcity of Love. In love with her body, coming to her own call. He was the doctor in the accent of another time and place. The cold fireside North. It must happen in nature and I could watch endless shows of Wild Kingdom. It's a mating call not picked up by dogs. The Parson, named for his propaganda film. She only wants the secret that goes off the cliff when the drive is too long. Love Regina, love Rejane. I'm afraid of my shadow when my gaze lasts too long when the distance is too far. The son inherits the ancient North, she is given the new city. When you are that rich you don't have to pay for anything. The soldier never conquers, only falls on the sword. I don't understand these positions. The kind of handsome that is no good to anyone because someone will always say "They are out of their league" about someone else. I've always wanted to have no time for leagues. I have slept with this knife before. I thought that I wouldn't care if they fell into the ocean. I was a ghost living in their dashed castle and cold for a human to move in. They are the clothes they would leave behind. She is a fur coat. Dead tiny animals. He is a uniform that chicks dig. You destroyed my faith in love. Little girl smiles and little boys fishing in the cereal box for the secret toy surprise. A ghost could be trapped in his bottle in the sea into the past. I didn't care and I could not leave. Their fantasies, their fantastic horrors and evil older than celluloid leagues, cannot swim and they were held up on me in bubbles on the waves. I watched them sink and I watched them drown. I knew it would happen. Ghosts repeat themselves.
