Don’t take my word for it, she said, but I did. I took her word for it and I’ll take yours, too.
I am a thief of articles, of discovery, of vertical blinds and blindfolds and blond files.
If you can’t beat them, join them, she said, so I glued them together.
Now you can’t tell where they end and they begin. So they say; so I win.
There are no open doors, merely wall-shaped holes. And you, my dear, are a hole.
But that’s a whole other story.