Heavens in futility

[standing outside Ana’s bakery, Harold starts

to lose it]

Kay Eiffel: Harold suddenly found himself

beleaguered and exasperated, standing

outside the bakery…

Harold Crick: [screaming upwards] Shut up!

Kay Eiffel: … cursing the heavens in futility.

Harold Crick: [continuing screaming] No I’m 

not! I’m cursing you, you stupid voice! So shut

up and leave me alone!

- Stranger Than Fiction, 2006

My history is defined 

by falsehoods,

heretics unknown…,

your smile and the way

you left your clothes

on that stained floor,

radiant sun in the forest

of our dreams…,

silent shout,

a whisper, a memory,

stagnant and posthumous,

the way you eat me 

with your eyes,

thrice I land,

once from Heaven,

second time from Hades,

third as a bird…,

Herakleitos can be my name,

just to see you change,

change, change, change,

a violent burst of wind,

when I come…,

Panta rhei,

my dear friend,

or are you torn…,

my Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,

before oneness,

and the strange sensations,

that guide us through,

my dear friend,

ooh how gallantly

it sounds…,

when you howl 

against the big bright 

Moon - your name,

whispered by my lips,

spot on!…, I say,

then to the land

of misbehavin,

and gold, silver, bronze

statues in the alcoves,

fingers made of marble…,

a touch, the touch

of some fiend,

thats how it gets done,

by the river

and some wild berries…,

my friend, my dear, dear friend.