When you dropped by to say you were working late, then sat, flirting with Debbie at the counter, I spat in your coffee cup before I refilled it. When you said she was only your rommate and, besides, a helluva little housekeeper, I took a crowbar to your back door. I let in the dog with her muddy paws and coat smelling of skunk. When you called to break things off, I held the phone upside down by its cord like a rat by its tail. When you asked me to drive your Audi to the airport, I pushed it off a cliff on Chuckanut Dirve right into the bald red sun sinking its face into ocean's blue legs. When you smiled like the jackal you are and said you were glad we were friends, I slipped into the kitchen, I leaned my hands against the wall and took a long long breath. I listened to the knives, their bluesy low-throated songs.