Recipe for a Bruised Heart

I’ve never been very adept at watching people shuffle in and then step out of life. This is probably because when I’ve learned something from someone I prefer to keep them around to keep learning. The act of losing a person is too physical, and the absence is heavy no matter how natural or positive it might be. I’m allotting myself only twenty-four hours to worry over the person who most recently stepped out of my life. And I think I’ll put into play the practice of using someone else’s words to cover up—

Application for a Driving License
Michael Ondaatje

Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feathers
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.

I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.