We broke up, he writes from across the valley, trembling feelers making their way across the snow. You sit in an empty house the size of a city block and try to gauge if there is space enough to fit him inside all the wine you've been drinking. But you are selfish with the starry sky, with the silence, reluctant to share it, to lose it.
that's all I wanted
something special, something sacred
you decide to stay still till it passes
hallucinate a yellow cab at the other end of the pasture
on the way home I saw two dead deer on the roadside and
stopped for two live ones on the highway
Life is more fleeting than you
comprehend.
You think maybe tomorrow
you call him back.
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