Last night we saw a film.
In some way, it seemed so sad.
It filled me with a deep, deep dark.
She said it was the cinematography.

I mused, I mulled.
I asked her about the end.
She would not say much.
Just frown on its phantasmagoria.

I asked her how it made her feel.
She asked me why I speak so phlegmatically.

Why can't we talk like we used to?
Ah, yes, she told me this once--
It was plain anthropocentrism.

I ask her where she plans to sleep.
I tell her I want her next to me.
I touch her hand--gently.
She pulls back
Wants me not to be so circumlocutory.

I sigh
What do she want me to say?
She growls
About my rife discombobulation.

Lights are up.
All are gone.
We sit side by side,
She says this whole night
Rates floccinaucinihilipilification.

All the same, I smile.
"What was that word
You used to use?
When you told your folks
We were in love?
Was it transubstantiation?"

It was pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis."

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