I invited you to my small home; no, offered it.

Since that event you have reneged on our friendship:

our friendship built on a swarm of commonalities, familiarities, till the pesticide—

the pesticide of consciousnessclassconsciousnessclass difference

consciousnessofdifferentclasses, consciousnessofclasslessness—came. The buzz

of the fridge, the whistle of the radiator, we listened

together, we shared this Harlem studio; no, not quite, I

loaned it. Debt repayment: derelict

in your duty, you swam off Manhattan, I became the shark.

Don’t pity the sea turtle, endangered as it is. Not even my teeth can

crack your shell. Crack open your head,

your lovely skull, unspool your brains, then I am Nick Dunne the husband,

the girl, sister, twin, redundancy,

to you there can be no twos so okay we won’t listen to the same music,

we won’t exchange wardrobes, we won’t go on vacation together ever again,

we won’t be raised in parallel ways anymore, we won’t

be in the same places doing the same things having the same thoughts no no I’ll let you be
lovely. Get that big house.

Haeon Lee invites you into his home.