they are a splattered mess of a thousand broken necklaces, a million hanging lights that fall through tiny holes onto the grass. they blur and spin and burn like the snow. fluctuating circuits of vegas signs; they dribble down and down, vines and tendrils like a drapery of exponents and lightning.
it is I, and the universe. there is no one here to crumble this sky, only the wind chimes and these spilt strawberries. oh, these spilt strawberries.
you have time. you have time forever and forever.
marry me, I said. and his eyes, his mouth and arms, they shot fireworks and wrought a billion globes of wonder upon my wide eyes. in that instant, we were wed. we had been wed forever.
the wheel needled into the constellations and everything shot past us in fire. but I, I was merely the spoke, watching the world as it spun and spun.