-Savage! You read my poems and tore the pages. -… Mute Ir-rational a Chinese poem played on the speakers. Black dirty pots on the hob. No defense. He read the poems. It’s fine. Now he prepares filter coffee in a dirty machine. His friend pointed it out. It’s ok, I needed coffee. He wanted me gone soon. My eyes clung to him. Sentimental stalking. I lit a cigarette then another. He didn’t like that. Faster. (Leave!) There was a knife on the stove. For meat. He took it up, feigned stabbing me. Smiling more than once. Time to leave. P.S: Inscrutable desires Forgive me.