Thursday, April 22, 2010

Fragments II


How she learned to ride the subway by herself.
How she wouldn't tell anyone but him how she lost her thumb.
How he checked the websites for new girls each night when he thought she was sleeping.
How her ankle wouldn't heal.
How she walked as if she almost shook apart with each step.
How the lenses in her glasses were as thick as a finger.
How she celebrated her 18th birthday.
How the cake tasted sweet but grainy, as if sown with colored glass.
How he took her to see the dolphins at Marine World.
How she leaned over and one held her hand in its mouth without breaking the skin.
How he was saving up for a pair of skis.
How he kept his money in the bottom of an old boot under the sink.
How she got the night shift at the 7-11.
How the manager called her a retard to her face.
How he forgot his meds.
How the dog ran away when he was trying to walk it.
How he couldn't make her understand.
How he hid his beers behind the bookcase.
How she started to find things out about him.
How she couldn't sleep next to him anymore.
How the plastic daisies lit up the kitchen.
How he washed all the dishes all at once, the water
so hot his hands were red for a week.

2 comments:

Elisabeth said...

This is stunning, Christine. I am floored by the way you tell us what seems to me like the breakdown of a relationship over a series of 'hows....

Thank you.

Billy said...

the downward spiral huh