People who are smart make brittle, cluttered sentences that they think braid the world together. I am smart too so secretly I think that. I finger other smart people's sentences that string through the air. Sometimes I am not smart and the brittle sentences shatter and pieces of the world drift apart from one another and I say save me my Lord. Things are held together in ways I don't understand. I try to hold myself to you with my sentences. I harpoon at you like you're Moby Dick so I can lace us together. When I am not smart, I am fearless and when I am smart I lie to myself so my aggressions continue. You are elusive so I tell myself you forgive me because if I were you I would. I am tender and shrill like a wife who hates her kitchen but doesn't leave. You made love in the first place so how can I be different. How can you not forgive me?