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66 How฀I฀Devour฀You฀in฀Ten฀Minutes฀Flat You leave me with the remains: a half-eaten cake, its frosting the smooth white of teeth. Outside, a streetlamp comes on and I watch your shadow’s retreat, the way it evaporates into darkness. You’ve taken all the vital things, refused the money I folded into your hand for a cab. At 4 a.m. you wake me with a call from the station, your voice in static— the last time I’ll hear it this side of the ocean. Near dawn, I become a tidal wave that falls on the kitchen: plates in the sink, champagne flutes, last the vinyl tiles. I mop myself into a corner, then sit on the counter with a cigarette. Nothing’s left but grief’s extravagance. My fingers find the soft middle, your name in blue icing. I am a scoop, a fork, a tongue. I am all mouth. A swarm of locusts. Nothing could be so clean. ...

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