I realised that the tall house by the docks belonged to
him,
it wasn’t until years later
I heard he had a film of her as well –
evening dress
captain’s hat,
light dimming strobe ceiling
low warm wood wet towel skin thinning brain tightened
knee rising blood-impact blood-impact tooth print ring
print – you bitch you can’t – evening dress captain’s hat
you bitch you can’t just – ah,
well here we are again, Ava,
and all I really want to say is – well, it’s never this.
They don’t teach you that kind of stuff in school,
do they?
Can’t put on a condom correctly.
Can’t navigate a friendship.
I’m terrified of HMRC.
But I do know what an oxbow lake is, Ava;
and which of Henry’s wives was pig-dog-ugly;
and what those plucky boys of West Poley fame stuck to
their faces to disguise themselves as wizards.
Horsehair, Ava.
This email is an oxbow lake
and I
am pig-dog-ugly too
have lost my shine, I think.
As will you.
We lost touch, this friend and I,
not long after her dalliance with Snake Boy – perhaps
she sensed that I was keeping things from her, or she
regretted the encounter anyway.
Maybe she felt stifled by our
twinning – understood our fundamental differences, the
arbitrary basis of our bond.
I wanted to stay friends.
I’d felt her slipping, held on tighter, texted her long
messages with all our in-jokes shoehorned in.
Like a desperate lover, Ava,
no, not like – I did love her, I was desperate.
