Page 108 of Wayfarers

“Curious, huh?”

“We’re driving. I’m making conversation. I’m getting to know you. Wouldn’t you wonder if I said the name Cal . . . purnia in my sleep?”

“Calpurnia? Yes, I would be very intrigued if you said the name Calpurnia in your sleep.”

“I don’t know! What’s the female equivalent of ‘Cal’?”

“I mean honestly it’s probably Calpurnia. I also feel like you could go by Cal if your name was Carol. That would be pretty cute, actually.”

“See this is why I’m so interested.”

“Why?”

“Because every time we start talking about Cal again, you take us on a tangent.”

“You know what’s something else someone could take?”

“What.”

“A hint.”

“Oh.” I hang my head, blushing and chastened. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! I was the one who invented this game.” Sylvie puts on her blinker and exits the highway. “But I’ll still answer your question because I want to move on from this and not have you obsessing: we were just friends.”

Knox Just Friends

The air tilts when someone lies

about loving someone.

Maybe it’s because when

you love someone completely, it moves

through you, replacing the pillars

of your structure, reformulating

your chemistry to make you

a new person.

I wouldn’t know firsthand

but I have to believe

love has that power

or the poets wouldn’t write

of it like worshipers on their knees

before an altar of a benevolent deity.

So you can press your breath

into the shape of deceit