(the car pulled into the driveway) grumbling and moaning and complaining matching your breathy expletives as you push a pillow over your head seeking shelter from the world around you— a voice that sounded like a fireplace stocked with sodden wood, like the limitless sky being punished by an overcast night, like the hyacinths bursting into color as quickly as their buds fall to the floor. (the car door slammed shut) i pity the fool— welcomes the tsunamis rising in your voice, witnesses the earth crumbling under your letters, watches the lava pouring out from every syllable —who does not know when to sound the alarm. (the car pulled out of the driveway) screeching and screaming and demanding expectation meets disappointment— whispers of what could have been, rumors of what should have been, murmurs of what would never be.
Coping Mechanism| Franco Magalhaes | Marker 97