me
the marriage is over,
he's nearly
weeping
as he sips his vodka.
she wants
me out,
he says.
gone,
that's what she said.
too bad
i tell him. marriage
is tough
at times when you don't
get along.
i thought you two were
on the same
page with the election.
me too,
he tells me. but
she wants me to march
around the white house
and i don't
want to march
anymore. plus
she's shaved her head
and is withholding
sex.
also she wants me to wear
a dog collar
and put me on
a leash, and
she's not even cooking
anymore.
do you have
any room
at your house, he asks
in a whisper.
cupping
his hand on the phone.
umm.
not really.
but i could sleep on
the floor,
or in the basement
on a pile
of clothes.
didn't we do this eight
years ago,
i ask him, staring into
the phone.
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