It was quickly decided last Thursday.
Cam rode with her while I caravanned
behind. It wasn’t a problem. We hugged.
That night at home, Cam told me her roommates

decided among themselves to kick her
out. They didn’t give her a specific
reason, but allusions to her clumsy
spells, falling up the stairs, disagreements

about when the rent’s due. Her friendly style
bit her butt; no lease to hold her ground, and
how could they patch up after that? Awkward.
Within the day her mind was set only

to head back home. Big items left behind.
Her roadside chair, the apartment sized desk,
the white ikea cubes. The pots and pans,
though, come with. She’ll need them in her new space

alone. Not completely though. A litter
was just born to her sister’s retriever,
and her boyfriend is just the town over.
We’ll be at Stewart’s for ice cream later,

for goodbyes. April and nice, eighty-five.
Why force it? Life seems to be living there.