I bought a new toothbrush for you that you never got to use. You weren't about to stay the night one more time. I bought a new dildo, it's true, that I never got to use with you. You weren't about to stay the night one more time.

But it's not all material: I believed in our stored potential beyond the medicine cabinet and the toy chest. And I still cry when I hear, "You're the best I ever had."

I fucked a new lover, it's true, but she didn't make me bruise though I asked her to. These days I'm feeling anxious for my absent mind. I've been blacking out on weekdays, blowing lines. And I pretend I'm getting through when we go to the mall to try on shoes but you can catch me sighing in the dressing room. A loneliness has opened like a trap door. I feel a lack and not much more.

But it's not all existential. I'm sure I have more stored potential beyond you and this town and this lovesick moan. And I'll always dance when I hear, "You're not gonna reach my telephone."