said “This side of things, it was supposed
to be fun.”
She thinks about the word affair and it sounds
almost translucent. It sounds like
picnics and wicker baskets and the baking summer.
She imagined a vacation from the wrack of reality,
with kisses like feathers,
their embraces fat, fuzzed bumblebees.
He punches the wall, the wall
that always wins and he swears
he will end this, because
the wall is concrete and his fists and heart
are loose scabs.
He swears, but she is
a wall to him, too, and
he doesn't know how.