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: But again I ask—
A: It is a passion for me.
A:. . . do and have done, ta-da!
A: No, but yes. Instead, say, Yes.
A: As you will it, so it is done.
A: Or U, half of Us.
Q: I am asking the questions, you know?
A: How do you know the questions I know?
A: “Know” isn’t a question. It’s an action of holding a thought in place.
A: Where you are?
A: To drape against your body to cover it.
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?
Q: Then why do you not answer my question?
Q: To me.
A: You, too?
Q: No, I am asking the questions.
A: Are you sure?
A: Could you prove it?
Q: Sure. Give me a minute.
Q: Do you feel the heat of those flames, cupped in the fireplace, against your feet?
Q: Are you warm, even now that it’s winter.
Q: Will you stay up the night writing?
Q: What will you write?
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?
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.