Anyway

Some gloom took her from me. Or was it hate? Or did it rest somewhere between the two? She's gone is what matters. The cars pass anyway. The wind blows anyway. That new apartment block gets built anyway. The grass grows anyway and is cut down and grows and is cut down and grows and is cut down and grows and is cut down and grows and is cut down and grows and grows and grows and grows and grows and grows- Anyway I decide to shave one morning, the mice in the scruff have fled the snakes long enough. At least this way they can see them coming. I wonder which one I am. But then think that's stupid.