the very last thing

the day i removed my belongings
from the bookshelves
and my memories from the
media rack
i was distracted by
the honking
of a horn outside.
i went to the balcony,
Juliet, solo,
and watched the past
unfold in front of me.
the newlyweds
across the street
rode up on their scooters,
pleased with their purchase
satisfied with the sea air.
she didn’t yet hate
the sound of his voice.
he didn’t yet wish
they’d never met.
so much contented complacency,
so much easy contempt.

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