We were drugged and dragging then, through a snow-topped mountain, grey and tawny black, thoughts racing, focused a long way back. Punch, punch, through the crust-topped snow. No skiing today, not with this rocky sun-smeared frozen icy covered trail. Ice breath hanging in the dry air; wind cutting down the canyons. It was the spring thaw that brought us to a new life, forlorn among the daisies. I could not control the sneaky destiny, harpoon impaling in my chest; your blood-soaked heart caught the other end, shaking and surviving, throwing back an anchor line. We were too weak, too meek, too unforeseen, too resonant to disambiguate the situation. And what to do with all that slack that only tightens when we walk away? L etting go; fingers soaked in pain-stained history; There was the cornbread life, baked in a round pan, brown edged in the afternoon, pulling away from the iron rim on the wood baked stove. At the cott...