To Last Lines I Have Written Without Having Written the Rest, and So, Aside From Here, They Will Never See the Light of Day

He would never turn down Christopher Avenue again.

But it wasn’t the sun.

Her turf. Her terms.

Kendall always burned the bacon but made a damn good gin and tonic.

He walked past the dogs. They watched his every move. They would follow him anywhere.

The cicadas sang their terrifying melodies long into the evening.

You can never dream the same dream twice.

I knew it was crazy to ask; I knew it was wrong not to.

The noise! All the goddamn fucking noise!

I would give anything to feel her hand on my shoulder.

She sang as she cleaned the kitchen, the clink of glasses playing along.

But not Wisconsin cold, never as cold as Wisconsin cold.

A small pill. Goes down so easy....

The Spaniard was already putting drinks out.

Holly said, “Forget everything I told you. Say I lied. Pretend you never met me. At least pretend we never talked.”