Leaving without a kiss goodbye

Car slides to a stop like earth down muddy hill.

Girl gets out, runs inside.

Guy, still in car, pressing palms into the steering wheel.

He adjusts the volume, newscaster's voice booms

and falls apart in a hiss.

Soon the pressed palms turn to an index finger

drumming on pant legs with that

Come onnnnnn, come on vibe,

and he watches her shadow move

with some holding a Roman candle anxiety.

Relationships sometimes get to this point,

jamming fall clothes into grocery bags

during March. You leave the toiletries behind,

half used or whatever. Dog food stays under the sink

next to the brush clumped with damp hair.

She leaves the faucet dripping into a saucepan.

He revs the engine a few times.

She returns with a fistful of bags.

As she pops the trunk,

he can't help but think about how replaceable

one can become.

Until then,

he'll use her smiles like a floor mat

and breathe in deep enough to fill both lungs

each time she walks by.