shepards pie at Kennedy's
in New York City
when i first realized
that i didn't love her,
that i was merely
ok with her.
conversation was fine.
the love making too,
was well, okay.
but we were companions
of a holding hand sort,
each taking a turn at
flagging down a taxi.
taking pictures of one
another in front of the Met,
or under the arch
of Washington Square.
but it was the first hot
bite, when blowing on
the fork, and she had gone
to the bathroom,
that i thought, it would be
fine if she didn't come back.
again, a villainous thought,
no doubt, but true.
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