Michael is dead to me.

Though, I suppose,
in his world of ascetic restraint,
dieting on only two pizzas a day,
she must have seemed like a real catch.
Well good for him, really,
and good for her too!
She likes a fat guy.
She says he makes her feel thin.

I think, God, if only we were all so lucky.
I'd begun starving myself
just to fit through the hall while she did laundry,
her skirts and blouses not like clothing,
but like the sails of a Chinese junk.

I really should have said more,
like, if I were better at French,
I could have called her a prostitute,
that I hope she's barren,
because puppy mills are wrong,
and if they couldn't find a home,
we'd have to euthanize her litter
in a river
with a burlap sack,
and if she tried to deadpan a reply,
contorted her fat face and said,
That's all Greek to me!
I'd say, No, you dumb cunt,
It's fucking French.

So I told him that, as a friend,
I thought he could do better.
She thinks it's cheating to check out the actress in a movie,
as if it's cheating to jerk off, for fuck's sake,
and Michael told me I was jealous.
No, I just hated having my apartment smell
like someone who can't reach to wash her own body.

Then he said, Enjoy me while you can!
like what a stupid fucking thing to say,
and I told everyone he said that too, because,
really, how the fuck was I enjoying him then?

After that, he stayed in his room a lot.
He'd come out for his pizza or to avoid bed sores,
and we talked again,
but I always had this feeling like he resented me for,
I don't know,
telling him the truth.

He asked if I'd be his best man too,
before all of this, I mean,
and I said yes,
and I told him not to have kids yet,
please, just wait,
and always use condoms,
and don't let her have the condoms,
as she might sabotage them,
because that's what 24 year-old virgins
with no education or work history do,
they go into heat.

And their fucking dog,
I feel I haven't been fair to leave out the dog.
You know they feed the goddamn dog McDonald's?
Entire hamburgers and Happy Meals,
because it's cute, I guess,
when dogs get dysentery
and diabetes.

On the bright side,
now I don't have to listen to the shower run
every time she's taking a shit,
and trust me,
it may mask the sound,
but we all knew what you were doing in there,
and we hated it.

So, there you go.
I was there,
I saw the bullet that killed him.
Our last words were over some stuff he wanted back,
For the break, he said,
I was thinking winter,
he was thinking longer,
and then, whatever,
I came back to an empty apartment,
an empty fridge,
and a sink full of melting ice cubes.

It's been months, and
I still haven't spoken to him, though,
I did hear he waited to tell his mom about dropping out,
on Christmas,
after she'd given him his presents.