The place we send our prayers

I guess I could sense in a way that it was the last time I would walk out of your house like that, Nina Simone just BLARING in the truck's radio I loves you, Porgy, and especially that second line, don't let 'em take me, that beautiful desperate sad quiet and solitary deep deep loneliest leaving. Like how lions can just sense which gazelle is the weakest. GOD, I hope to never be there again. Those hostas that I planted and the cord for your laptop that we ordered with my credit card and the dogs so happy to see me and the sad bag of dog food I brought, all the time knowing. God damn, the road to my regret. But you know what? I don't think I'd change anything. I went to pick up the pizza at 8:30 and I had this suspicion that you and whoever you were with had driven past the house a few times and were waiting just for my truck to be gone and when I got to Romeo's there was this most amazing beautiful rainbow that spanned the entire sky, 180. And I went to take a picture of it, to show it to you, and as I framed it within my viewfinder it suddenly hit me that there are some things you just can't share. That you simply have to be there to experience. All the blizzards at dairy queen and sitting on the truck's tailgate and the sunsets at the lake and how your camera equipment was always far more important than anything else, despite everyone else around us content in each other's arms and how you never ONCE passed the door lock test. Here is a hint for your next one, when she lets you into her vehicle since you can't drive FOR GODS SAKES open her door if it's locked, unless you truly are the world's most selfish person. And I think that perhaps you are. You never cared about John Coltrane but I always cared about Rancid. And not til you. Sunday afternoon drinking beer in your mom's store looking at pictures of your lives past and you telling about all those girls and after twenty minutes spent thusly you realize and look at me and say "I've known some pretty interesting people and I am standing here with one of them right now" and how you really didn't know anything about me then and the words fell flat, so why in the hell did I continue? What the fuck.

It's going to take me such a huge amount of time to heal from this. God damn, your voice sounded so small and so final in the phone when you said "yes" to my so it's just over then and the breakdown you had to hear on the other end and your just well I'm going now, onto the next thing. Flash of light, now I'm here now I'm gone. Can it really work that way? And that there will never be a way to say anything final, in any real sense. Just that goddamn nina on my speaker, but I loves you Porgy, why can't you get that. Don't let em take me. A week ago to this night we held each other and tomorrow you told me to have dale's keep my old bike tires so you could use them, what the fuck, seriously, one week? A thousand million horrible silent crushing hurricanes. And what comes next is not you and me. It's you. And me. And never the twain shall meet. Do you, do you, do you. Do you have any idea what it was like to walk out of that house sewer smell for the basement hostas that I planted dogs even looking at me through window pane like knowing it would be for the last time. Cannot even wrap my head around the concept.