dinner time and the lights fade slowly

2004-08-10, 8:12 p.m.

carrying the bags with worn handles, my palms slip into the leathers straps and the bloated case squeeks with each of my steps. i put them down packed full, let the shaken innards settle to the bottom, then the first signs appear in her face. once, twice, three times i have seen it happening in slow motion, because i am the reluctant observer.

i am the man watching his car pass through the motown car wash.

i am the cliff that feels the wind of a passing body.

i am wishing i didnt have to see this again, and i am wishing for the line or the caress that would alleviate the pain caused by such simple leather baggage.