Interludo

When you were born, Your mother told me A hush Fell over when you were delivered home. A great red birthmark Covered the left side of your face. No one knew what to say. So you cried to feel the vacuum. To feel... I always... I always admired you, that you cried To feel whatever vacuum you found. I even began to manufacture vacuums by myself Just to enable you to deploy your talent. The birthmark faded by the time you were six, And had gone completely By the time we met. But your fascination with the empty and its Cure Remains the same.