'So, the problem that I have with You'i said to him out on the green drenched porchout in the morning grey, the drizzle about to give way,'I just don't trust You'.'an old conversation,' He replied.i ignore him, which isn't easy when Hislight is in my eyes.'We were on a roll, we were and the worldwas turning and blistering in the darkand the spark of it, the ember was about toignite something wild and big and- here,pass me that cigarette- now thewhole dam thing isdoing that thing it does when youdecide to fuck with the plan in favor of my spiritual development, a lesson, ormy sense of who i am .''You throw the whole thing down the pipes and then You ask me to come up with somethingcreative, quirky, silly... don't sit there and smirkat me when i am mad.seriously sometimes You act justlike a man (which we both know Youaren't.)'He takes my hand. The day is stretching on ahead like agloomy endless highway that i dreadno rest stations and no trees. The hum of soul mated bliss that hiss of light and heat is so far removed I haveto reach deepinside to find some reasonto get up in the morning out of the hibernationof my bed, avoiding the restless clatter inmy head and i hurt. everywhere all the timeI thought we had a plan and this one wasn't minei can assure you.and i am mad.'so', He says, stroking the dog's headand drawing deeply on his cigarette.