a study toward sonnet #347 by FisherKingKQJ
My husband was the alpha male I sought
Out as an undergraduate: nicely groomed,
With a promising career, he who thought
The globe of me, a rosy future loomed.
However, six years on, we've both subsumed
Our energies in over work, we're both
Like cadavers who have been exhumed
To the breakfast table in rigid troth.
The white spectre of divorce is loathe,
Perhaps we shouldn't work so far apart,
Perhaps we should toil as one under oath,
Perhaps losses are best cut for a start.
It's a brawler's tic that he's not win-win,
Whereas I roll to save my pretty chin.
It's a brawler's tic that he's not win-win.
It's a brawler's tic that he's not triumph-triumph.
It's a brawler's tic that he's not victory-victory.
[Second proof of concept for interactive movies 17/10/04]