Degausser

Somewhere, on earth a building falls and there is movement again. The trees sway but not the wind. The mist stirs in perfect time as I move closer to the dancing flame in the distance, with voices growing stronger as its heat grows colder.
There. Here. The flame is her hair. Her face appeared then changed to dis. Moses knew fire but this burning bush is a girl. I am angered. Frustrated. Anti-climaxed. Submitted. I growl.

Come here white rabbit, come here.
Whatever makes your heart sing.
This would
Don't waste my time
Even a rusted hinge would let me in, are you less than that, girl?

Evaporated, my sense, I start blending with her riddlespeak. What is keeping me warm here? The flame, the one elusive flame? The forest. The pale. The hole. The rabbit. The tree. The broken. The self. The walk. The fall.

Just keep falling.

Then, for one second I grasp the game as I forget the rules.