I keep Sara's last drawing,
a floorplan of her new apartment,
a lot of inky boxes.
She tells me to stand back from it
and I will understand.

Later, I follow the movers
up the turnpike.
Sara keeps looking over her shoulder
while she drives.
This wasn't in the floor plan.
She pulls over in Jersey,
wants to talk but I don't stop.
I got my eye on the movers,
on every chair,
on every piece of crystal
dieseling out of my life
on 18 wheels.

Hours pass like countdowns.
At the Carlysle loading dock
in New York City
Sara says "Don't you get it?"

"Now I know" I tell her,
"Why Vincent gave up his ear."