I spend that first week—and it feels like spending, as not seeing him is costing me something—doing all my ordinary things: perusing, learning, not biting the dust. I compose interchange titles for the books on his perusing list. A Tale of Two Kisses. To Kiss a Mockingbird. As I Lay Kissing. Et cetera. Medical attendant Evil and I subside into a grudging routine where I imagine she doesn't exist and she leaves always repulsive sticky notes to tell me that she does.
In the streets like the sheets