Sometimes, they say
that knowing the signs
is half the battle.
But maybe they're wrong.
Maybe knowing the signs
is half the comfort.
Like when the bottom's
falling out,
or when the empty stares
yank at your mental sleeves.
Yanking and pulling and tugging
even while you're running.
They don't stop
until the fabric rubs
your motivation away.
Maybe knowing the signs
is half the comfort, then.

Leftovers of breakfast
on the table.
Crumbs of toast and
liquid chicken
silent in their reprieve 
live for the moment
to see wrinkled
scraps of trees
scattered about the planks,
the stained remnants
of a life of ease.
The crumbs, they listen.
From below,
a murmured scream, in the basement.
Television blares:
Santa is nowhere!
The crumbs,
the crumbs know
and they lament when
their maker scrapes them
down the
Lau
nd
ry
ch
u
t
e
.

He shattered her
with proximity
and words never spoken.
He pummelled her
very essence with
foggy glances, undetected.
Fences needed mending,
or dismantling, and neither
he nor she could choose.
So the panels just stood-
crooked, dishevelled
and weeping.

All withered,
she rang the bell
clanged the bell
at would-be shoppers.
Her puffy red coat flapped
about her frantic arms
as she hollered with a smile.

"Oh merry great day,
and may God bless you
for your change!"

Then she danced
all crooked like,
sneakers and wrinkled
pantyhose pattering about
like a hollow clown
on ecstasy.
All withered,
she rang her bell
and twirled silver-streaked curls
with frail fingers that
chimed of younger days.

"God bless you for your change!"

She hated the way he looked at her. Sometimes he seared through her as though he had something to prove, but he was too pussy-willowed in his boots to move her.

Other times she'd catch him trying hard not to look, like a little kid whose parents warned of bitey snakes in the cookie jar; petrified and hungry at the same time. She hated his non-looks, too.

But it was the times when he'd look at her with his eyes half-cocked, loaded with silent questions that screamed impenetrable shades of sadness that really pissed her off. If he had something to say, and she knew he did because his peepers couldn't hide shit, she just wanted him to put on his big girl panties  and say it.