Shrine-building For Fast Goodbyes

i. I exhaled with the bubbles in the kitchen sink now obsessively, compulsively, disorderly clean. Wainscoat white, left around to remind me of antiquity. Today was the first day that I excused your battery with a finger in the doorjam of a Volvo to a seeker of a stranger who has questions. Smiled to untraceable answers unsure of how I slept last night knowing I could not rub the neck of the dog I always I knew I loved more than you.



ii. I argued between orange or blue in the kitchen, eyes in the windows open, magnetized to the smell of the rotting fall that soaked in your hair, in my bed, in the past, in the shallow sheets of the charming clay lipped kid.

The only thing I can say I feel for you is as blue as I was.
Blue as I felt the imaginary time you convinced me. The time
I dangled heirloom china
from the roof.