Stringed I told Cupid it was time for him to leave - I found another heartless mouse under the sofa. Pizza boxes have been gathering on the lampshade -an experiment in transparency, she said, patting her blue perm. Another bird committed suicide. -It’s not easy being leviathan. You take it for granted. He wired the mouse through the hole in its heart to my laptop. I tweak its hind to click the start button. “LETS MEAT” screams the dead bird on the other side of the screen, “ODE SEX”. Cupid looks too smug. She wheels the thermometer to bed outside with the stars.