First of all, there's really no such thing
as the temporal significance of anything;
everything's just an accident, a downstream
coincidence of Gregorian circumstance.
And speaking of accidents—images
are not really treacherous; they just get weird-
ly slippery after a while. Let's take her
for example, slowly tripping
up the stairs from a pea-yellow
bedroom in the basement, mumbling
something like happy
anniversary from the bathroom
an electric toothbrush buzzing in her mouth;
me in the kitchen, probably reciprocating,
having some coffee ready.
Now, let's cut to—the sun
eventually lying down, bloody
and exhausted, to warm the earth
somewhat differently for a while.
Suddenly, nourishment is nothing
like what it looks like.
There's so much less to it
than we thought a little bit ago. Now,
it's basically the ambient temperature
on the surface of our skin
which shows us—invisibly