—NO USE PRETENDING THINGS CAN STILL BE RIGHT. THERE’S REALLY NOTHING MORE TO SAY.

 

 

 

                                                   Such

 

The cats circle. The wind reverses. Today wants yesterday back, last year back, though it was bleak and broken and not the best of us.

A plane soars eastward. The sky convulses. You tell me, “Goodbye” for the thousandth time as I swim to the deep end with a barrel, while the waves say, “Such is love.”