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i didn’t really pack my stuff when i left
i wasn’t in a clear space
it was the end of the world
as i imagined it
two kids
dog and cat
lovely and unhappy wife
coming apart
with a single word

nothing would ever mean as much to me
i was unable to imagine
no books or bed

as i burst into sad smoldering ruins
my now-ex
packed my entire universe
in boxes bound for the garage
with her best friend
and friend of mine since 4th grade
i was spared the heartache
politely rooted out
deleted from my former abode
and the young lives
no longer believing
i would tuck them in
or wake them for my famous french toast
before the bus


i am the poet of desire by john oakley mcelhenney

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