The feeling, not
the color, creeping into my eyes
as they watch a phone that doesn’t
ring. Your wheel is running,
but I have no marble left to
drop. Time
slows. Distance
ticks off
in my head, leaves
me spinning. Knowing we
will land on double
zero, the shape of repeated
emptiness
editors note:
Our roulette revolution, a gamble every time. We revolt against loneliness, bet on love; mostly the house wins. – mh