visions of a blind fountain.

Blindness, a trip with everyone and everything

feels touchy-feely, makes Beth blink less, and she

can tell when I lose the game. I hide my anger, say,

“The garden looks fresh. Vines wrap the fountain, eh,

and it looks like lovemaking after a long sentence.”

Beth smiles away my cruelty. I lick cans, stones, all

that falls in my way back home. At night I have a vision -

Beth stalks me, and I cannot escape her diligence.

I am a snake, and Beth, a fountain. Only she gurgles,

without any wetness. I know dreams can show why I

return everyday to Beth, lose a battle of blind results.

I know Beth, and her hatred of winning a game where

both want to lose.