Can three women share one man? Have the knives been sharpened? Red sky at morning sailor's warning. Can three questions share one answer? I am not so dark, says the moon, you should see how bright I am high over the planet. The red sky does not believe in the old sailor's warnings. The three questions want to share a bed with the three answers. Questions are only slices of the dark, says the moon. The journey says, time is two intertwined spiral staircases where you pass yourself going up as you pass yourself going down. The old sailor wants me to notice how the sea ebbs and flows sharpening it's edges. The knives claim the first song that became a dance was the sharpening of the knives. I say—each night the waves bring you back to me—you wash up on shore and lie by my side, cold and still as a statue.