Tumblers

She thought she knew me, owned me
but that night when she came in late
I could see the tumblers tumbling
behind her eyes even as she threw
her arms around me, then took her
suicidal gulp of pills, passed out
in bra and panties in the tub.

I could see behind her eyes how
what she never got a whiff of
was me packing East a hundred miles.
Nodding off in the desert in the Kia
and hearing coyote howl across
ridges all night. A sound
that somehow had more comfort
than her touch had ever given.
I wasn't looking back.