I don’t see you anymore, she said. Your curly black hair and brown eyes are gone. Erased. Freckles on your forearms no longer exist. I’m done with you, she said to the blank picture frame. Her dog cuddled up beside her.

You’re out there somewhere, the redhead looked out the window. No telling where, she closed the blinds. Could be in some bar. Drinking them down with the boys. Talking about conquests and baseball.

Might be in some whorehouse in Albuquerque. In bed with some Mexican woman for a cheap price.

Maybe at church asking for forgiveness, she looked at a spoon ring in her ashtray, mixed in with pennies and dimes.

I wonder what you look like these days. Did you get that tattoo you were always talking about ? The Irish flag on your bicep. Or was that just talk? she laughed. Poured herself a cup of coffee. 

This life is crazy. You’re gone, and I still talk to you. Can you hear me?