he bought too many again
he knows she will leave him
over this mangy mollusk
she will stare
at its sad tentacles grasping
at vague memories
she will see the squid as it could still be, she knows
if she is fast enough she can save it,
flush it to the ocean
or the sewers
and the sheer size of its potential bloated growth
will reach into the present and split
the garbage can in two and leave
pockmarks on the ceiling
ink in the rug
and he knows she knows she will leave him
because she will come home to the squid
every time
