Archive for the ‘Jay Passer’ Category

THE SHORT TERM by Jay Passer

after a very small and inconsequential misunderstanding
she gives me a chance to redeem myself, to utter some untruth,
to assuage her skinned-knee pride.

I roll over, say
forget it, just go.
I’ve had it with you.

your behavior is barbaric
and you ought to live in a cave
that’s what she tells me
swallowing the last of the wine,
clomping around in her shoes.
on her way out she slams the door.

if only I could fake how I don’t feel
she’d still be here,
boring me to tears.

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