I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t go to anyone. I couldn’t do anything about it. I just pushed it all away like an empty dinner plate. The meat men came and watched me slump boneless across the kitchen like a soft filet. I want everything and nothing at the same time. Words mean nothing to me. We hang ourselves daily with promises that don’t exist. We shank the ones we love with tender wistful thinking and batten down the hatches when the waves of sorrow get to big to navigate. The meat men come on my face and in my hair and on my wrists and they say this is love cause it leaves you empty. The meat men come on my wrists and say if you press them together now it’ll be like a kiss. I smell like a wet dog and I can still hear the thunder in my head from earlier in the day. I want apricots with no pits small enough to eat in one bite whole. I want the ass of an angel and all the fat in the world. I’m a sardine in a tin can and you’re never going to notice me. I’m trying to forget you and it’s not working. I’m the penny on the ground watching you walk by. I’m the light moving across your ceiling and down your wall and almost touching the floorboards before I disappear. You picked me up one time when I was a magazine at the doctor's office and I could tell you were afraid. I am the table and I am also the chair. I beaded you a necklace once and you didn’t know it was me. I miss you. I love you. The end.