She’s pitched fits about your hearing
and you knew she was unhappy.
Still, the sound of her suitcase
being thrown on the bed to fill
hit you like a Taser.
You had no trouble hearing that,
you ass. Shrink after shrink after shrink’s
talked so much about it, you’d think
there’s a picture of you in the dictionary
under screw-up.
Her love for you and all your faults
was all that kept you sane. Now it’s back
to the bars, strangers you’ll only see tonight
—and tomorrow morning when you pretend
to care how much sugar they take,
and how long before you can usher them
out into the heat, the cold, the light,
the dark, the anything but your house.
Your hands touched the skin of a woman
you don’t want to recognize ever again;
you’re somewhat ill at the prospect of tomorrow.
Close your eyes. You’re back in the life
where you were happy. Was there room
for redemption in her parting words—
you can’t recall. You weren’t listening.
