Adam & Eve & TJMaxx


“You’re better off”
The words I can barely make out
Over the voices of uninteresting men at the local bar down the street from us. me.
Down the street from me.
The muffled, broken beat of my heart syncs up with jingle of my keys in my pocket
As I walk to my car after work.
My brain forgets what my heart remembers:
I missed something.
As subtle as the letters “OCD” my therapist slips in during a 68 minute session.
How could I be so sure? wrong?
I sit across a walnut oval table, tall like you.
Do you remember the staring contests I beat you in?
Did you blink on purpose?
And when did you know you’d leave? All along?
Was I the last to know?
The deep, Eden garden root disguised as “I think I know better.”
Like the tag I ripped out before trying you on.
Regretting you a few wears in when you began to fray and reveal holy flaws- showing your cheapness with repeated use.
There’s no store credit or refund offered on trust.
Final sale.
We weren’t built to last.
My grandmother sighs,
“They sure don’t make them like they used to, do they Emmy?”
I reply,
“No.
They don’t.”

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