They decided to put
an end to it that night,
arriving halfway
near the entrance
of Dr. Rusty’s Junk Yard.
She drew blood first
handing him a crate
of love letters, the hoodie
hinting sharp notes of his musk,
ending with the commitment
off her ring finger.
He responded promptly
dropping a trash bag
at her feet as photographs
and articles of clothing
drowned in a sea
of lawyer papers.
They remained silent
for a moment,
enough to hear
the wind rattling inside
the hollow corpses
of corroded machinery
and discarded vehicles nearby.
Before they lugged
their baggage
in different directions
beneath the store’s neon sign
displaying the message, “Used Parts!”
