from bed, our last supper

leftover chicken for dinner

i knew how much i was cooking

what i could eat

it wasn’t left over

there was no one in the seat across from me

i chased you away with worries, monsters concocted during day light dreams

nightmares

suppositions

blank stares

bacon consistency never remembered

what size of spoon you use, for cereal and ice cream

i stopped guessing and brought both

or, sometimes, i left the drawer open and said ‘in here’

you got the hint

i regretted dropping it, shattering silence with a clang, as your uncles’s gift forks fell to the floor, your final sigh closing the door, i looked around

finally

free to explore

what to listen for

when the neighbors stop arguing

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