When the door closed, I closed with it
I slammed shut with authority
And shook the whole house, it seemed
My teeth clacked against each other
My bones rattled like dice in a cup

Two inches of solid wood between us
A dirty joke without a punchline
And me, standing in the dimming day
Wondering where to go from here
Wondering how to move at all

Three stairs and twenty steps to the street
Two bags and an armful of clothes
Shaking hands and steady streams
Of snot and tears and that special blend
That stains the ends of sleeves