We know that
relationships
have always been a gamble,
and a gambler
is nothing
if not
more than a little
unstable. But still,
we think
we can play smart
and win
the full kit of another's
invisible bits
arrayed like loose chips
on a blackjack table.
It's like we're only hearing
one half
of a conversation—
not between
who's left
and who's leaving,
but between a ghost
and its hollow machine,
between the disappointingly
gritty concreteness
of matter
and the abstract
song of its animating
energy.
