Earth and sky reverse on the snowy horizon as he tells her he is leaving.
She asks him to bring her back a cinnamon roll and black coffee
Because she chases sweet with bitter on cold days
He grumbles then incredulously that he is leaving leaving
He has no suitcases, no garbage bags, no doubt, no remorse
Well, she sighs low, scattering more tinsel on the tree
She is looking at it now, not him
Can I keep it?
Eye rolls, head shakes, he silently shuffles down the walkway
It has only been a weekend or a year
She doesn’t remember
But she knows he drug this stray tree home yesterday
And already it is time to put the lights on
This piece provokes before taunting for it subscribes before describing too accurately sometimes the state of our present interactions with each other individually and collectively. It depicts the total un-involvement we have with each other on any real meaningful level while perfectly illustrating how quickly we will move on with the alternative (“He left the tree”)