Flatpack

There's something about the way Violet flips her hair
While she's paging through some fabric swatches
I'm slumping in a Poang chair
Does she sense malaise
See it wash over my eyes
We struggle cramming curtain rods in the trunk of her Passat outside

And it's cold. I watch her go
Everything's on hold
East Palo Alto Ikea rooftop parking space is simply not the place

She's talking up a trip to Bristol, Connecticut
For an interview. LinkedIn connections
Two days after the world stops spinning
I'm gnawing on a fingernail
She asks me what's gone wrong
Startled, say I'm leery of the way things seem to move along

Without your say so
Everything unfolds
Tomorrow's never guaranteed
But a week from now's concrete?
I guess i'm a little in my own
Head might need some time alone
And Like that, I let her go
The simplicity astounded even me