You Might Meet Her One Day

What happened was that we were given a variety of unusual zippers with which we were instructed to make hyperboles of god. We might have had books or girls, delicate traceries of crystal or spiders that spoke a lost dialect of PIE. Instead, we had these zippers. Someone suggested they had fallen from space or had congealed from exotic interplanetary dusts. As far as I was concerned, the entire matter was like a talking tomato entering neutron-space. In my pocket, I had a gun. Once, long ago, I had known a girl. I took my zippers and formed them into a collapsing library, and then I went inside and followed it to the source of the accident. I found a book there that was on fire, and it required that I occasionally sleep inside the dreams of specific dogs. Sometimes my girl was waiting there. Eventually, we found a passage that led out of those dreams into gardens that went on forever. And now, we have a gun… together. I keep it in her pocket. You should see her look at me. Just once. I wish you could see her.