Flatpack

Something about the way Violet flips her hair

While she’s paging through some fabric swatches

I’m slumping in a Poang chair

Does she sense malaise

See it wash over my eyes

We struggle cramming curtain rods in the trunk of her Passat outside

And it’s cold. I watch her go

Everything’s on hold

East Palo Alto Ikea rooftop parking space is simply not the place

She’s talking up a trip to Bristol, Connecticut

For an interview. LinkedIn connections

Two days after the world stops spinning

I’m gnawing on a fingernail

She asks me what’s gone wrong

Startled, say I’m leery of the way things seem to move along

Without your say so

Everything unfolds

Tomorrow’s never guaranteed

But a week from now’s concrete?

I guess i’m a little in my own head

Might need some time alone

And Like that, I let her go

The simplicity astounded even me