A summer Sunday
easy drinks and lunch
with a newer
you knocked at my door
‘we have to talk’
me on the dog shit pavement
no shoes
‘nothing left to say’
sat in your car
smoke, lipstick, ash reek
for privacy you want
& you drive away
canyon empty streets
as I fear
your sanity
my life
where this will go
and you drive
saying nothing
not a word
from those clenched
white, thin lips
until you finally
drop me
with a snarl fuck you
a hundred yards
from my door
later you tell people
he has communication
control issues
yep, you got that one spot on

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