The Sleepwalker
I find him in the kitchen
everything is dark except
his wild hair once red
now golden from the
Californian sun
He opens the fridge then closes it
then reopens and squats
pushing a few things aside
his hand pulls out a carton of milk
observing the fading expiration date
he writes on the cardboard side
-All lovers meet the same fate-
grunts, spoiling milk
the contents splash out on the floor
as he slowly turns towards me
Isabel,
would you please stop using the tupperware for your memories?
nothing ever refrigerates.
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