May 1st

Rent is due.
Time to scrawl half the amount
in letters and numbers
sign illegibly at the bottom
then stuff a check in an envelope
with the one his girlfriend
taped to the bathroom mirror
before she left for work.
But her check and her toothbrush are gone
and he remembers the letter
he has to write.

But what to say?
Does he apologize for the screams of anger
boiled over from lies exposed,
the unrelenting sobs that followed?
The landlady used to say
they were such quiet neighbors
but now when he passes her
on the way to the garage
she just whistles.

Should he mention
that blackened spot on the carpet
stained with sex and vomit
from vodka that could not erase
the taste and smell of his lover
from his girlfriend’s mind?
The security deposit
just one more thing to give up
come June.

He needs more time to think
of the right words.
But for now, he writes
We are moving out.
This letter serves as last month’s notice.