1460

Thursday.

We were trying to outlast

each other on the porch,

blowing smoke,

little grey barges

hovering by the screen

sucked

into the harbor of the house

when Ray opened the door.

She’s got a vodka tonic

with a twist off bottle

sprawled across her lap.

You have to understand,

I’d say later,

at this point I was trying

my damndest to avoid the drink

but was nursing a dark beer

prone to smiling

when the glass missed

my lips.

I had hoped she would

call it quits before me

but when I closed my book

short stories

some American author

and stabbed my cigarette

she did the same

followed me inside

our grey barges

kissing our necks.

Around the counter

Ray was making a drink

a sandwich and rolling

his eyes at the dogs

like they’d do something

special if he ignored them

hard enough.

Lisa stares.

I turn my matches

make little shapes

open and close the box

staring at Ray

and his red lips

the yellow of his collar.

For a long time,

nobody said anything.

Silence can haunt a house

if it’s heavy enough

and we stayed under the quilt

weighed down by some

great secret we all knew

but forgot to share.

I step onto the porch

touch the ear of a dog

close my eyes

and wait

for the door to open.