it came apart. it was bound to happen sooner or later. nothing
is forever. not even that. you can try clay & hidden vows.
you can try bent nails & spiked morphine. you can try french
kisses & wild rivers. it came apart. i'm not sure when. one
day it was fine—at least it seemed okay to me, but the next day,
there it was, unraveled into a hundred pages of goodbyes.
there were no dead bluebirds or stale perfume at the scene.
that would have stunk of a setup. there were a few crows
picking at it until they saw me coming. it reminded me of
ammonia. like it had just been disinfected. it came apart. i can't
be certain, but i'd guess no more than eight hours had passed. that's on my
time table though. keep that under consideration. a derailed
train which spilled out dozens of coffins. the labels didn't matter.
not in all that wreckage. there was nothing for the shadows to
steal. everything was gone before they got there. i'm sorry.
i don't know what else to say. it came apart.
i looked long enough that i forgot to breathe. it no longer
matters if it was love or irretrievably beautiful. it was
undeniably human. it's no longer important if it was
spurred by dopamine or expectations or literary aspirations.
i no longer remembered the physical blow. i never
completely understood why i continued to move toward
it so many times. i do recall why i walked away, though.
i don't remember how anger could rotate into other
emotional readings. the longing & the solitude
became larger than the sum of their parts, though
they were more than a world away from one another.
i hear an empathetic reply. i hear repetitious apologies. i
find myself surprised yet again at my reaction. i still need
surprise, & i need something to help me forget in
the meantime.
i paused for a moment before my laugh broke the distance.
i laid one on top of the other until they all toppled over. i
bridged the night with a mason jar of homemade wine
& cribbed poetry. you said i was different. it was all in the
way you said it, of course. i understood immediately &
accepted your judgment. she told me that you said i was
enigmatic. that was even better—if it was true. she must
have realized at some point that she was driving me right
into your arms. maybe it was subconscious to begin with.
maybe it was as calculated as her faked orgasms &
elaborate maybelline touches. i slid my hand under the
table so i could touch your leg. the room was crowded with
conversation, but i could hear your breathing quicken.
i wanted to sweep the table clean. i wanted to glide into
you right there. i wanted everyone to watch. you asked if
i'd like to stop over that evening but i had to be home.
she would know immediately where the time had gone.
i didn't want to go home. i never should have left.
mark hartenach lives along the ohio river in a dying rust belt town in appalachia—constantly fighting to keep his sanity.