Sadie’s leaving, feet dragging on the old red carpet.
My last apartment was shared with a stranger
in apartheid, separated by the
very same carpet.

Then she just decides what’s best is best,
that summer dress blowing linen waves.
What’s lost in jest is often for the best.

Lists are old and now I’m left to remember yesterday
while planning divisive gestures for a drunken
muse tomorrow.

She asked me if I’ve seen it all.
Befriending mask before the fall.
I see them as they all abandon.
Granules of sand in gravity land.