Poet: We haven't talked for awhile.
Dancer: Talk is peach--messy, too much juice. Southern.
P: You love peaches...
D: Only for flesh, sinew and pit.
P: How have you been?
D: Moving, you?
P: Not so much, not forward. Circles. Like around this hole.
D: Forward is overrated.
P: Thank you.
D: Not a problem. I did miss you.
P: And I cd tell that how?
D: Are you looking at me?
P: It's difficult not to: you're naked.
D: How does that make it difficult?
P: Well, I can see your nipples, and they are irregular.
D: Irregular?
P: Not like coins. Not pink.
D: You spend so much time with what's negative.
P: Absence.
D: It's less romantic than you think.
P: Who wants romance?
D: It's how we were trained. You can't get past your training so easily.
P: Oh?
D: Even when you do, you rely on it. You need something to undo.
P: We lace, we unlace our shoes?
D: We keep standing up and lying down--it isn't useless.
P: What does it make us?
D: Simple machines, maybe. Have some water.
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