Maintenance Records

We stood in the driveway, the sun was too bright.

I was pointing at the dent in the door.

We spent the whole morning in a petty fight

about who should pay and what the coverage was for.

I didn't say I loved you. I didn't say stay.

I just talked about premiums and the cost of the glass.

Then you drove off in the middle of the day,

watching the miles and the minutes pass.

I went back inside to the kitchen table.

The eggs were still there, turning cold and gray.

The grease had hardened, a shiny, thick label

of the words I was too stubborn to say.