"Erase and rewind,
'cause I've been changing my mind."


Videotapes. Cassettes. Hard drives. Bookcases and backseats. All of have been cleared and made clean of her. Anything of substance. But her memory lingers like residue from a candle left to burn overnight. It's as if part of her is back in the apartment. As if, after balling up all her letters and throwing them in the trash they have crawled out (wrinkled and resentful) and pulled themselves back up on the counter, saying:

You can't get rid of me that easily.

I can't put her behind me, she is sorta like how the smoke from a campfire follows you around, no matter which side you sit on. I keep moving, it keeps moving. Restless and impatient. I need to replace these images with others, overwrite, recode, reconfigure. But I don't know any other languages and I keep hitting the same keys.

I go out to find some films, something to fill the time and redirect my attention. At home, away from people. The girl at the videostore tells me I have a 12.60 late charge, then tells me (No, I don't need to...)what movies they are for--her movies, her late charges, my bill. How poetic is that?

Smiling face: Yes, that clears your account now.

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