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      December 12, 2023Tony TrigilioFour Guys and a Truck

      The rooms were stolen
      by four guys who joked
      about everything I owned,
      talked and shrink-wrapped
      my bookshelf at the same time.
      I bought them pizza for lunch.
      They hulked at the table
      without their knees touching,
      one pepperoni one plain,
      argued about the Bears-Packers
      game tomorrow. The mood
      was muscular. I watched
      the whole time (my excuse:
      lower lumbar vertebrae).
      The rooms crowded with couches,
      mirrors, sconces, the droopy
      desert painting I bought
      the last year of my marriage—
      what looks, lashed in bubble-wrap,
      like a very large waffle. Could be
      just another boring Saturday.
      How they got the desk through
      the kitchen. How they wrapped
      a mattress. A ladder
      in the living room where
      my television used to be.

      from #36 - Winter 2011

      Tony Trigilio

      “Within a two-year period, I got divorced, moved twice, and lost two close family members: ‘Four Guys and a Truck’ emerged from the awe and exhaustion of impermanence.”