It wasn’t for lack of wings the lovers couldn’t fly; rather, it was the same pendulum of the body tricking them with light, heavy, light, with its stubborn wobble. They would learn from that swing that not every arc is an arch; theirs was the shape of a belly or a cupped palm. However, they were holding out for something more glamorous: a rabbit leaping or a hat carried on the wind. They had planned a candy factory but the sugar shipped late. They burned everything, including the house next door, in anger. The sugar came the next day and they let it sit sweetly in the ash. They were told that to say Empty or Full was their decision, which is to say: you have an ice cube in your fist, a piece of glass in your belly; will you throw or hold? From this they learned a little something about choice. They were told that their days would be gold in water: guaranteed to lure them into following, that the pull downward and toward the end would be irresistible.