First, disconnect
smoke detectors
and dim all the lights.
If desired: soft

music, incense.
Take the letters
of an ex-friend
(ten years worth) and

place them in your
kitchen sink.  Douse
thoroughly with
lighter fluid

and ignite. Add
postcards, photo-
graphs, poems, notes---
any items

you might have cher-
ished as much as
you cherished said
so-called friend. Fan

the flames; let their 
heat redden your
cheeks. Breathe in the 
black smoke. Hold it.

Exhale. Begin
to feel unbur-
dened, free. Laugh out
loud: you've destroyed

a little piece
of that person's
voice. Scoop ashes
into plastic

trash bag. Top with
eggshells, coffee
grounds. Spit. Repeat
as needed, as

others either
betray or a-
bandon you, or 
just let you down. 

The East Village Poetry Web
David Trinidad