God, violence, trees….

New work:

“I do not love you,” he finally  said, this boy I had met only once, “except because I love you. I go from loving you to not loving you. I hate you no end.” He was quoting Pablo Neruda, though again I did not know this yet.  

I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t say anything for the longest time. I heard him breathing down the phone, then he started to whistle,  as if I wasn’t there at all.  It was a casual melodic whistle, a kind of innocent and bored and unaffected tra-la-la. 

“Well, goodbye,” I said.  

About louisewleonard

Author of 52 Men, Since You Ask, and others Also in The Rumpus, Tin House, Fiction Advocate, Gargoyle.
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