i don't like him. honestly. i really don't. mostly disgusted.
but she does, love him, i suppose.
and this is where the wedge divided.
split. oceaned. transatlanticized.
here, now, in this moment. i let go.
and kindasorta disperse into the scenery.
a tree. a rock. a sidewalk. a driveway.
"losing a whole year"
i triangulate and measure.
three corners, three sides to this instant.
couldshouldwould
havehadwill
i forget. to regret. to be upset.
finally, my faulty memory can be used for something
other than repeated trips back into the house and
locking myself out of my car.
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