Right as I left the darkening storefront

I walked up to the edge of the world

And looked over

I saw

The long grey-blue skeleton dress I wore, belted

The bottle of alcohol and the cup, half full

The contents of his refrigerator: cheese, grapefruit juice, dry Whole Foods cookies

The chair, too art deco for the other furniture

The lamp, draped with a bedsheet

The mattress, naked, stained

On the ground, angled up at my face, was the mirror

My reflection’s mouth pulled down on the edges

Eyebrows a little closer than usual, faintly furrowed

Her gaze, the reflection down below, met mine

But it was so deep off the edge of the world

So I turned away from the objects of that night

And walked back to the glowing yellow storefront

To the warmth and the coke and half-empty tea boxes

And didn’t tell anyone about what I saw while looking over

The edge