halfway

What is it like to be in love? What is like to be a raindrop, falling on the shoulders of Corinthian columns, damping the straw man, clearing the throat of a blue starling with misty self-conciousness? What is it like to remember an eclipse, with a thick glass, a smooth rim, emerging from pure black ink? What is it like to count hairs falling off a pineapple, despite its most earnest attempt of self-preservation?

What is it like to be in love? Is it a floating hand on the Danube pierced by the strings of Wilco, typified by the teenage tweeds, glorified by the gloating guffaws? Is it a dangerously thin gush of blood, following the impossible passage from bullets to digits? Is it a microphone crying pity me, pity me?

Is it you? Is it me? Is it this senseless exchange?

Willow is almost a palindrome and halfway is a place where we find the half-insane.

P.S. http://get.to/seanluo