She walked away from the car and contemplated the morning and evening only to come around to the afternoon when feeling a rock had gotten into her sandal she stood on one leg not for long as she lost her balance and thought of the mop next to the vacuum cleaner next to the chopstick one of the chopsticks that had fallen onto the floor next to the birthday card from last year the one she had told herself she would get rid of during that really shitty week quite more than all the other shitty weeks. 

She walked away from the wash and distracted herself from the thought of the noise the thought of the silence only to come around to the afternoon when noticing an anonymous message had gotten into her stream running down this leg of her journey looping around the wreath she swatted at covered in gnats someone had told her not to do that trying to remember when that was when someone had told her not to not to think so much about the noise about the silence and when she had first told herself not to think so much about what someone had told her not to do that trying to remember passwords or names or numbers or addresses as she walked away from the wash from the wreath of wire not covered in anything and distracted herself from the thought of the noise the thought of the silence the thought having to do with what she would be covered in eventually.

depressing hands it to her
changing shifts of repeating grunts
aging into sheets of spilled coffee
walking the dead dog 
over to the cliff
of his presumptions
her expectations always 
ended there
orange excuses for solutions
stirred into routines
accumulating into a pile
of fans clogged with thick
dust
where he returned his efforts
and she walked away
again
leaving the blame
where it belonged
and its smell tried to follow
vines of sarcasm knifing
memories and connections
puncturing her future


- Max Stoltenberg