1.

If I were to remove 

whatever (you might call it love, though your

mouth may be hesitant to move in that way)

we had made

   and throw it on the rain varnished street

            (that street which pleased you before. you had said

the storm gave it a pleasant odor

and i had laughed, without deciding to, and there was something so warm about the side of your arm, only a boy, don't you think? i have never felt skin so warm on me or the girls i tell of you to, no sir, this is your bright

and shining honor)

it would make a noise, i predict, though small

and quick! my lord

it is desperate and aware of its insignificance (there was nothing special about that skin, no sir, blood can be boiled just as water is, and served--now--i am unimpressed)

but in its history, louder than the longest awaited silence, yes. you would notice. I hold it now and i

am

so close to hearing it fall.

(only some minutes left until that

phone continues to lie still for too long.)