We took the long way back to the south side. Dew coated trees- I think they were thirsty, anyways. I look over at your hands. They’re shaking again and again and again. I ask, “What’s with the fear?”. You tell me something about how the world is laced in promises and sometimes you feel like it’s up to you to solve the puzzle. I hate those kind of games and sometimes I hate trying. So, I let my lips fuse together like I’m holding in a secret. The seams that connect my skin together feel like bursting, and still, I can’t surrender to the moment.

You cruise down the byway- taunting the night into staying for good. I love your punches. How you can rotate words into leaning your way, whether you’re right or not. Later that night we lye on the floor in the loft. Listening to the stop and go of the raindrops- wishing to be as free as that. You tell me how thirsty you are for something more than the sadness. I tell you that the flowers needed this rain. Swear you hear thunder in the distance and I tell you it’s just people rolling trash cans to the end of the their driveways. These acts of comfort. How they come in all forms whether I play along or not. They’re here for me too in some twisted way- and I abide to them like a truth. It’s feel like home. Feels like surrendering. Feels like taking the long way back to the south side. AMT