“So, you’ll see that, basically, all’s fine with Zak.” “Yes, my wife and me — we’ve read your report.” “Yes, so I’ve assumed.” “Of course, we did.” “Yes. Of course you did.” [beat] “It is my understanding that there’s something you wanted to discuss with us.” [beat] “Yes.” “Yes. So…

low hanging skies. depression. (atmospheric, too.) low hanging skies. all encompassing joy. canvas carryalls — open. supine on the hardwood floor. what a relief. questions and counter-questions. red is a colour with loathsome memories. red is no music, it’s mute and toxic. red is. low hanging skies. see how they’re gone.

missing? long overdue. lost? missing. (missing) long overdue. missing? lost? lost. lost, lost, lost! lost? missing. lost? missing. lost? (missing) long overdue. missing? lost. lost? — long overdue — (lost and paid for)

The first sounds in the morning. Clichés. Underhanded double entendres. My broken coffee machine spitting out malice, loathing and judgement of the sly variety. A caress turns into a twitch and I remind myself I must descale the machine before I get overwhelmed by the shadows around.

you popped in to say hello. for better or worse, with words only you understood. the day did not matter and no response was due. silence was broken, put to no good use. not once wished for — an accident — I seemed a good idea you might recall.

“Will you ever furnish this place?” Jake’s here. Jake’s visiting. He drops by once a week on average. To check on me. I say, “I got what I need.” Jake’s walking around, hands in his coat pockets. He’s taking his time. Jake says, “This place is empty. It echoes!” And he claps his…

you said I’d regret it. I said no way. none of my business. you said I’d get it later. too late. but then you died. you said you have no regrets. never had any. couldn’t find the word in a dictionary. and I wanted you dead. you know better than to ask. you know I’d lie. you know too it’s irrelevant. and I concur. I want to preempt your question. there’d be nothing to say anyway. and I’ll be long gone before you’ll figure it all out for yourself.

“I simply told him it wasn’t ‘fantastic.’ I said is was ‘nice.’” “Jake was five.” [The voice was like that of a woman’s. Deep and soothing. Some of the vowels evoked ancient rites, from times histories were passed on without the written word. There was ample space for misconstrued resentment.] …

My favourite tree. Where it belongs. In its own place. Been here a while. We don’t talk much. Swaying. Dance the wind with me. Accept apologies. My breath is yours.