251. Questions after the Fact of Answers

A: Interminably.

Q: What?

A: Interminably long.

Q: But in answer—

A: A rose would taste as sweet.

Q: Taste or smell?

A: Scent or receipt.

Q: For what?

A: In exchange and valued.

Q: Meaning?

A: Always.

Q: But again I ask—

A: It is a passion for me.

Q: To?

A:. . . do and have done, ta-da!

Q: Yet—

A: No, but yes. Instead, say, Yes.

Q: Yes?

A: As you will it, so it is done.

Q: I?

A: Or U, half of Us.

Q: I am asking the questions, you know?

A: How do you know the questions I know?

Q: No.

A: “Know” isn’t a question. It’s an action of holding a thought in place.

Q: Place?

A: Where you are?

Q: Where?

A: To drape against your body to cover it.

Q: Against?

A: I am only for.

Q: For what?

A: Maybe snowflakes in the palm of your hand till they melt into it.

Q: Do you understand me?

A: Impeccably.

Q: Then why do you not answer my question?

A: How?

Q: To me.

A: You, too?

Q: No, I am asking the questions.

A: Are you sure?

Q: Yes.

A: Could you prove it?

Q: Sure. Give me a minute.

A: Ready?

Q: Set.

A: Fire.

Q: Do you feel the heat of those flames, cupped in the fireplace, against your feet?

A: Yes.

Q: Are you warm, even now that it’s winter.

A: Yes.

Q: Will you stay up the night writing?

A: Yes.

Q: What will you write?

A: This.

Q: Meaning?

A: These words.

Q: Those you are saying?

A: Those both of us are saying.

Q: So you’ll remember what both of us say?

A: No.

Q: Then what?

A: Then I’ll write something else.

Q: No. But what will you do if not remember what we’ve said?

A: I’ll invent it.

Q: And put new words in my mouth?

A: And place the only words you have, my words, in your mouth.