she passed over the secondhand flowers to me, white lilies they were, bunch of fresh looking ones. I've heard about white lilies, but still, I carried on holding them trying not to show my superstitions. in the car on the drive home they settled on my knees, upright in a plastic bag and i felt... i could feel the crash coming, the death approaching. the dashboard threatening in the background, one of lily's white and brown, talking to me. i cupped the stems tightly, my pruned fingers gradually showing around the damp bag and i looked ahead into the dark and yellow street light shimmers that were coursing by. the city is just a city to me now that's engulfing a four wheeled metal box, but it's warm in the car and he's happy. smiling at me, so happy, so fucking happy. his laugh muffled around me and his face unknowing of my know. he's a whole film reeled against the car window of dark streets. his top lip, him and his top lip, the way it makes that shape it makes. I'll want watch and wont spoil it, or him even for the price of the skin off my bones. then I want to tell him to look at the road, caution of the crash, cautious of our life, but when the inevitable is inevitable and you have already had a déjà vu about a déjà vu  about the time you were wiping brown pollen off your cheek that looked like and become his old dried blood...what good will caution do? what good will my caution do when my want for him to die laughing will ease my being without him so...

her lilies her lilies grow and grow.