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He fell in love with the nuclear strike of a rose firmly pinioned beneath two incisors and bathed in the morning light.
She said, "stay one more night."
He took the train down to Manchester, giving his lab coats away to a five year old, shaking his head as he threw all his luggage to the rocks below.
10 miles of writing smeared by the snow.
His head out the window, gasping the cold, he said, "don't let this feeling let me go."

She fell in bed with a nuclear physicist, gave him a toothy smile and a twist of her hair. Te million mega-tons in her kiss. She sighed to herself, "you're better than this."
She took the train out of Manchester, pocketing volumes away of a lifetime that she could have spent hovering blithely through the Mancunian streets, or engulfed lightly in hotel sheets, or withered and lonely, feeding the geese.

"Meet me outside
our lives."

He fell in love with the lily-white particles that caused her freckles to sparkle and magically sing.
She fell apart at the thought of spending another miserable day in this scene.
He took the train up to Manchester searching the rain swept streets for a rose in a black wool lapel.
She took the train out of Manchester, where it will lead, she will never tell.
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