sara left me on the 14th of may,
while my mentor laid dying,
while my debt went unpaid.

over routine coffee and cigarette,
she watched the flimsy fabric
of my flesh
catch flame.

she floated away
to ricochet off summer lions,
whose pride lies between their
worn thighs.

i planted heavy.
aged a century in a week of
wine, infomercials, and hospital
calls.

every mutual friend i asked
about sara's condition,
told me to leave her be,
cast me in creep status.

my beard grows gnarly.
my smoldered remnants
held together by cobwebs.
and everything i ever loved
is on its deathbed.