and some return
to self lost in femur’s
sickening crack seven weeks ago
She and I,
having returned to our
perpetual state of we
the week before Thanksgiving
argue over Internet,
as she sends text based concerns
about well-being and apparent
slide into self-hatred
and depression .
I rebel, remind her
everything’s not fine.
Even though I know
it’s myself I’m mad at
not her, but I’m too
stubborn/proud to admit this.
In childhood corner of suburban nowhere
called home everyone solved
such disputes with gifts.
But I could never love
a material girl.
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