Emergency Contact Divorce

She posted flag at half mast, thirst trap with a thermometer
I offered: soup, Gatorade, a ride
A bag of oranges that looks like it came from a painting
She wrote back like I’d knocked on the wrong door in a dream
“YOU NEVER REACH OUT”
As if my messages were a rumor I’d started about myself.

And I believed her immediately because I’m from that country
Where the border agent says
Reason for visit? and you say, Sorry.

Then she started in on my “lifestyle”
A word that makes it sound
Like I’m running drugs
Or training hawks
Instead of just being silly

She didn’t say what she meant, which is how you know she meant it
She tossed it like a dirty towel
Into my lap
Watched to see if I’d fold it 

Become one with the wet rag and call it diplomacy

I explained, offered kindness again
Like returning to the scene of a minor accident
To help the car that hit you

Holding a heavy bag with a hole in it
I felt my own good manners leak on the floor

Until I hated her
Not poet hate
The type of hate that keeps its coat on and waits in the hallway

I think she’s a shit ass judgey person
Who mistakes her irritation for a moral system

I think of an alternate past where I say suck my fat dick
But I know that’s just the other side of the same codependent coin

Still searching for the right sentence to make the wrong person

Someone else