everything would be as simple
as splitting a big pile of wood.

Even the big pieces from the trunk
that I couldn’t manage to get a wedge in.

When Andy came to get the part of the pile
I’d promised him, I was out on an errand.

When I got back, he had split it all, even
the big ones. That was okay. Maybe I had

inadequate tools. Or maybe it was me.
It didn’t really matter. I had done what I could,

and so had he. We shook hands, and he left.
It was so much easier than love.

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