she is my wry smile

I watched her shows

and she drank my beer

in the morning we would wake up hungover

and drive somewhere

**

She is my wry smile

and I am her lingering anger

**

Her legs are etched in my memory —

something seminal, apparently

the way she felt beneath a sundress

shifting, lovely

**

She threw my things out once

which became funny, later,

but only for a time