A knot was tied there, deep in the stomach.
Who can say how? When it unraveled he
knew what, he knew what the goddamn
problem was. She was there, at the party,
in the car. In the bathroom too, and they
Her monologue was silence, mainly because
she never existed. Born out of neuron snaps,
electric whippings, and the head hitting hard
that yellow pillow.
And then, there, beneath that tree and under
still bar light. Look! They both held eyes
and that was when the knot flipped open
for him. What a queasy, sick sort of affection.