Sunday

I wake up.  Marky is up.  It's quiet.  We will go have breakfast.  We talk.  It's like any day.  But each knows.  Today is the day.  I will leave.  I have trouble.  I can't swallow the food.  I fight tears.  He is quiet.  His eyes are soft too.  We go upstairs.  In the room he kisses me.  We make love.  It's soft and tender.  He tells me he loves me.  He holds me.  For a long time.  We don't speak.  I can feel his tears.  They run on my skin.  He can feel mine too.  We must get dressed.  It's time.  All is packed.  Marky goes to leave.  He turns.  Takes a photo on the phone.  He takes a photo of all things.  He has many.  We go downstairs.  We will drive to the airport.  I look behind me.  I can see Calgary.  I don't see it again for a while.  I can see the mountains.  So close but so far away.  I can see the building.  I think.  My life here.  Walking 4th St.  All the places.  I think of being a whore.  IT feels 100 years ago.  The drugs.  The anger.  The control.  They are so much of my life.  But it seems the last 9 months is my real life.  The car goes up the road.  I look out.  We don't speak.  Just think.