you stepped on the cat

& felt bad about it,

took it as a sign/a precursor.

Things get out of hand,

you feel celestial:

a ghost in a ghost town

drugs are just

a luxury

that summer

the Eucalyptus splits 

the plumbing & we lose it,

the heat gets you down.

I think of things

to keep you occupied;

you fish & kill

compassionately.

I let you win

scrabble.

Part 2.

Tuesday evening: Rowda Ya Habibi,

your stomach tight,

a clenched fist

but

you call the entrée

like a pro

I guess we’re

trying to

flesh

out a feeling,

someone says

but

some things just can’t

be fleshed out

over falafel

later,

when you excuse yourself,

I imagine you’re calling home

to say:

I went to my own

 intervention

and all I got

was this lousy book

of Paulo Coelho quotes