she says the dishes cannot pile up if they are one
and I remind her that we are two, and
she says I love you before she hangs up the phone

she says where is all of this dirt coming from
I say, almond milk
she says no, thank you

she says do you think flies get so close to our faces
because they’re trying to ask for help, she says
look,
if that saxophone don’t sound like it’s been chainsmoking
for at least a decade then you’re doing it wrong

she says try to be in the present, will you
so I light a cigarette and she says
don’t you ever think about the future

she says the body really is the ultimate barrier
to the soul and isn’t it a wonder they haven’t found
a workaround yet, she says, I don’t know
about this whole free will thing
I say maybe there’s no great metamorphosis here,
maybe it’s just the same old self
and a higher odometer reading
she says morning is an excellent time to be alive
don’t you think

she says when you’re dead you’ll have forever to haunt this place
what are you doing wasting your life on it, she says
Jesus could walk on water because he wasn’t
dense like you

she says you sound like you’re doing what dogs do
when they suddenly understand that they’re dying

she says, it’s like this. it’s like you’re driving around a city
that used to be beautiful—maybe used to be yours, even
—and then everything is closing, forever.
there aren’t any signs in the windows or anything like that
but you just know. even the places that just opened,
the banners are still out there, promising you grandeur

they’re all just closing, she says
for good

she says the dishes cannot pile up when they are one
and she is right. I say I love you

she says