Ice

     You are the terrible symbol of all I want, seek, detest, and need to destroy. Your forehead resting on the crevice from your right angle structured arm on the table . The other arms outstretched straight towards me, palm up. Dipping my fingers in the tea, pushing aside the lemon slices floating atop, to the ice pieces, fishing one out. One last glance wondering if you sense anything awry. Nope. Slowly sliding the cube on the inside of your forearm...

/11/16/09, Austin