loss

we made it throughthat glorious mess and still came outthe other side—whole and alive not untouched we were hithard torn down toskin and bone and no one will get it no one will understandwhat it tookto get through what i mean is— i’m gladit was you even ifall i had leftof myself was skinand bone

and your beach hairi know you’re with herin another city maybeor in another cafe? maybe the one we used to likemaybe you go there with her nowand say you like the dirty matchaand she’d like the americano and there will be a stack of bookson the tableand there will be a wound on my headthat…