Sarte understood breakups
Nov. 24, 2015
——Stormy days knock out the library’s power &
——get the children crying.
We got together Nov. 21, 2012. I remember b/c the next
day was Friendsgiving, and we showed up together.
——Three years, some enjoyed, all wasted. Now all that’s left
——is sex & TV, and getting stone & drunk & seeing other people.
‘I think we need to see hell.’
‘What fresh hell is this?’ But that’s the thing
about hell: it’s always fresh.’
——He was the sort of person to tell you
———sincerely—he’d do it tomorrow.
——You just never could be sure
——which tomorrow he meant.
She was beginning to grow on you. Like plaque.
——The best laid plans rarely
——survive contact with the evening.
There’s no change coming over you. Moment to
moment, there’s no discernible difference in how
you think, feel, act. But there’s a you born
Monday & buried Sunday every week.
——’How can everything be so terrible?’
——It isnt. It’s just felt so in the present,
——the tiniest sliver of your experience lived.
Waking to a room of passed out floor-sleepers,
groaning symphony, one atop my shoes.
——Out into the foggy morning gloam, the word
——returned to the dogwalkers, joggers. The still-drunk
——hungovers dont belong. (‘Never again, till tonite.’)
Motel Georgian — PHONE CABLE / WI FI
The drain makes the red brick bloom green with algae.
Outside room No. 2 a girl sits cross-legged in the dark,
face lit brightly by the fire burning its way up the envelope
in he hand. She blows on it.