4:30pm on a Friday
couldn’t get much worse than this

i dress myself in these episodes of destruction
disaster
allow every word
to snip like scissors
against the fraying edge of fabric

jay calls three times
in the span of thirty minutes
and they argue
he won’t relinquish possession of the phone
i wait
cringe when his voice screams
across the world
if you don’t let me speak to her
i swear to god i’ll kill you

the remainder of the conversation
a mystery
after i close the door and set out
in any direction that isn’t what that was
create a new space in time
and hear my own words
hitting back like the wind in my eyes
i can take care of myself
realizing the full childishness of my reaction
the whole situation

my return is quiet
uneventful
i don’t cry
ask for explanation
or apologize
feeling like i’ve just fallen from a tall building
like i want to close my eyes
and not feel unconscionable
pathetic

on the back of an envelope i write:
running from someone
on icy snow makes sounds like
the breaking of bones