She Undid the Night – Robert McCoog

…and he was almost shocked when she went to slip into something ‘more comfortable’, since he knew this secret thing about her he discovered, back when he broke up with his psychotic ex-girlfriend. She was his mother in class and talked for adoption. He had connected with her and with the fear that  inspired them to chat and this fear that so often accompanies first dates of sex and pauses.

Later on, he knew of her son. And how he watched her lay in bed due to a drug deal gone wrong.

Somewhere in the night she told him to be close and naked. He knew he shouldn’t. They crawl, they always crawl

Somewhere is his mother in a negligee. She excused herself and he thought she was gorgeous even though she was five months with child. He thought about his chances. Fate had brought him his psychotic ex-girlfriend. She carried ten foot long spears weighted with impact. The police report later would  say the air was heavy with panda bear laughter from the nearby outdoor bar.

“Steel,” he thought. Like a dutiful son, her son. He was not her son. She yelled at him for that.

They sat and talked for a while. He figured it was fate inviting him back to her, to be inside. She is the universe and the universe abhors such a thing. They wanted to give up a cup of coffee for the gun.

Somewhere in the last break up he decided to sit next to her. She undid the night, and used the stars to fill the awkwardness of the space between them.

Somewhere in the trunk of a nearby garden he thought how a mother’s life was undone by the passing of a car.

They made plans for adoption. He had left her with a five month old.

“Flowers,” he thought about how his life wasn’t. He thought how her laugh sounded exactly like his mothers…and how his mother’s body broke apart on  impact. He knew, he was horrible. He thought about…