it was the summer we moved to dubuque
and i had braces again
i was 19 and tan and too thin
you were 24 and dusty blonde and should’ve known better
we bought an apartment above a cigar shop and next to an abandoned post office
the landlady told us we wouldn’t get our security deposit back
i said, what if we don’t break anything?
she said, something always breaks.

you were working at a gas station
and i was working on myself
you spent most of your days smoking **** by the outdoor bathrooms
and i spent most of mine calling friends on hidden payphones
the day you found my quarter collection
was the day you got fired
the night i left you
was the night i realized
that i was big
and you were small
that one day my teeth would be straight,
but yours would always be yellow and sharp and crooked

i went to the landlady and asked for our deposit back
so i could buy a bus ticket to somewhere that smelled more like home.
i said, i didn’t break anything
she said, why are you leaving?
when i didn’t respond, she smiled sadly
as if to say,
“exactly.”