—HERE WE GO, GOING COLD IN THE SILENCE

 

 

                                             Origami

 

We were askew, three of us bound in a white van, wind for miles, Cabernet and IPA, nothing to fear but a blank page or the word Goodbye, which we never said, not really, and looking back it all makes sense, the same way origami does, each of us folded into the other, sharp elbows and bruised ribs, strong as steel, made of paper, yet never flammable.