Big Bad Wolfe

Look, we can work this out.
We can talk to your roommate
or your super
or the building management.
We can talk to your friends
or that boyfriend you
– ex-boyfriend?
Oh, thank God.

There are still options.
It doesn’t have to be a cataclysm
or a catastrophe
and your cat doesn’t have to be left
out in the cold.
As said above,
you’ve got options.

You can find a share.
You can call your cousin.
You could try out one of those new
housing services, or
I’ve heard good things
about communes and cults these days…

There’s your sister.
There’s your mother.
There’s your ex-brother-in-law
or any variety of homeless shelters.
I can buy you insulated boxes
if you need to be on the street for a beat.

Look, you can’t come home.
I love you like a daughter
whose room has already been converted
but, after all the things we’ve said
and all the oaths you’ve sworn,
don’t you think it would admit defeat
to just come back here,
where you always felt so constricted,
so dependent, ineffective?

I can’t do that to you.
You need to be strong.
You can’t come home, baby.
I’m sorry.
I love you too much.
You can’t come home again.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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