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and I was left with my books about you - I could have been something

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June 20th, 2006


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07:45 pm - and I was left with my books about you
Cocourt, I've fallen in love with someone else. He's just like you, only simpler, fighting a different war. Also a hundred pounds heavier and richer by miles.

Last night I dreamed that I called everything off. I caught my husband kissing a girl. Well, I didn't so much catch, as shifted my eyes to the side and saw him doing it. We were all sitting on a bed and he felt obliged to kiss her, and for awhile I tolerated it, maybe even enthralled by the prospect of him doing something so bold, but eventually I felt insulted, got up and left.

Storming away, I took my wedding ring off and put in my pocket, a melodramtic satisfaction. Immediately I was concerned with the possibility of losing it, the imbalance of the circle and the small heavy diamond so much more vulnerable off of my finger. He was apologetic, followed me wonderingly to the post office, where I opened my box (the college mailbox of course, I always seem to be looking for you there, in dreams) and found a series of books I had ordered about you.

He knew instantly, and I was ashamed. Though I had already ended it myself, because of his much more merciless indiscretion, it was clearly all my fault.

I followed him away, guiltily aware of an eagerness to be alone and read about you. You were on the covers in blues and greens, wearing your uniform, a helmet, holding a gun.

Cocourt, he's fighting a war, like you. Neither of you knows why, but I won't hold you to it. I'll know why for you, and love you better for not wanting to figure it out.

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