On wishing your partner were dead
Colin Williams

It’s 2015, the U-Haul is parked
I’ve been dumped on move-in night
1,000 miles later.

Florida lies far behind us.
The mugginess here is cool

My body too lean.
As often, I think: funeral.
Would they cry about me?
Would I cry about them?

Overheard whispers are like axes,
chainsaws in the night.

But you should not do that,
Steven Seagall intones.

Sometimes even the worst ones
know they fucked up.