I've come by, she says, to tell youthat this is it.
I'm not kidding, it'sover. this is it.
I sit on the couch watching her arrangeher long red hair before my pulls her hair up andpiles it on top of her head-she lets her eyes look atmy eyes-then she drops her hair andlets it fall down in front of her go to bed and I hold herspeechlessly from the backmy arm around her neckI touch her wrists and handsfeel up toher elbowsno gets is it, she says,this will do. well,
I'm going.
I get up and walk herto the doorjust as she leavesshe says,
I want you to buy mesome high-heeled shoeswith tall thin spikes,black high-heeled ,
I want themred.
I watch her walk down the cement walkunder the treesshe walks all right andas the poinsettias drip in the sunI close the door.