Trace the knot of insufficiency so lightly so as not to betray your betrayal. What is pressing is all you have failed to say, with the same gesture that is both a reaching-out and a fending-off, a suspension at the moment you determined yourself by a substitution, a short-cut you felt so entitled to, your privilege of leaving the scene incomplete, you side-stepped and wrote your story over the top of that gap, which followed you everywhere assuming a face and a place where what was owed could never be forgotten but kept on whispering to you in the unease of every lucid hour and of streets and trees and the eyes of everyone you passed. So lop-sided, so inescapably hyphenated, you became the forgetting of what could never be forgotten, and the playful juggling with what was really a burden too heavy to carry or to deliver to the one to whom it was owed, who never stops looking at you with gentle and disappointed sadness and seeing what you've become, unforgiven and unforgiving.