Severance

I saw him at the bodega, picking through the fruit,

looking smaller without the navy wool suit.

He bought three oranges and a paper for the day,

while I turned my head and looked the other way.

Back home on the nightstand, the keys are still there,

a jagged little pile that gives me a scare.

I thought they’d call and demand them back,

but the world didn't stop or fall off the track.

The metal teeth are useless, the lock has been changed,

the whole map of the morning has been rearranged.

I learned that the place doesn't miss you at all;

it just grows a new skin where you used to be small.