it's not fair to say really that one
thing means more than another
but i see you drive by and think
about following you. the exhaust
from an airplane cuts a distinct line
in the sky like a divorce and neither of
us got the house. your alimony was
paid in salt water, mine is piling up
with the rest of my unpaid bills.
i don't owe you a thing except for my
saliva. and you still owe me boulders;
two friendships and a walk along the
can i stop by and get those tomorrow?
you can leave them on the sea wall where
we ate crackers in the wind. you wore those
sunglasses and i wore my distrust like a
okay, i won't follow you this time. i'm sure
you're just trying to get home for dinner.
i'm going to go have a slice of banana cream
pie and think about how many people
i've fucked since you.
with love and squalor,