i love her all the time
She went to a cable access channel in 1981 and never came back. I dream of her tongue in my mouth and my fingers in her pussy in green sewers of the underworld. The salesmen at Radio Shack undid the chain from my neck. I wrapped another layer of duct tape around my hunting rifle and crossed, unopposed, the industrial park on a sunny Saturday morning. I moved from floor to floor of the deserted office tower, leaving messages for her in silver text on bottle-green screens of random IBM terminals. I think she forgot me. But I love her all the time.