I am now, as always, lost in the grainy black and white myth of Bogart and Bacall; a kiss is still a kiss, a twin engine DC 3 waits on the rain slick tarmac in the night fog, it leaves in a hour for Lisbon, and we all walk off stage right into the swirling fog at the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Ain’t like that here. Just pay the bills, carry the weight. I’ll turn off the lights one more time and “close the door lightly” when I go.
Cut it loose an old friend told me one day. If it don’t bring you joy, she said, cut it loose. Acceptable casualties I guess is what she meant.
Tying up the loose ends is what I said to her. I know better than to believe that. At the end of love nothin’ is easy.
Acceptable losses, collateral damage, what the hell, over is over.