She comes as a cola — He comes as a compressed air duster — She is bubbly, she is sweet—she is hookingly pleasant — He is bursting from his reticence—he is a slave to his own trigger—he is the hardest blowing blower he knows.

She shakes, she explodes—she spills herself all over him — He wants to lap up her maple-ish goodness—makes her tingle extra sparkly to know that — Though he thinks to suck and, then thinks to slurp, he blows the syrups all over her.

She caramelizes—she tries to roll herself free, but she’s stuck in her own entrails — He blows at the caramel with all his pressure, but manages only to freeze it—he makes it worse — She’s a statue of garbage,  He’s a failure of a leaf blower.

She becomes a binder clip — He becomes a six-inch ruler — She is versatile, she is assertive—beyond paper clips, she is unrivaled– He is a niche worker, he is indubitably precise—yet, also, he is quite flexible by his own nature.

She clamps onto him — He lets her do that—makes her bite harder to know it—she bites him too hard, though—renders him planished, disfigured — She lets go of him — She tries to fix his dents—she attempts to squeeze them back to flat, but she only worsens them.

In a flash of Oxford white a great wave, slaps from behind them and drives them both over an edge, to plummet and crash into a metal pit — They look toward the sky, out from within their metal pit, they see hail the size of golf balls, as it falls to entomb them.

She becomes a Newton’s Cradle — He becomes a stress ball — She is relentless, she is composed—she is a not-so-novel novelty—she was really cool, though, in like the 90’s — He is underappreciated, he is mundane—made in the likeness of a tremendous aspirin.

She smacks her balls at him — He cracks a smile in return, from his beaten up shelled exterior—makes her balls slap graciously to know that — He maneuvers himself toward her—scrunching himself inward to pop himself outward—that’s how he moves.

He slips himself under her balls—positions himself to lay there on her platform—rested just fractions of an inch below her swaying balls — She smacks them in all her splendor—twelve eyes for only him — Her six balls slap above his face, forever.