At 2 a.m., The Neighborhood Looks Bad

You evoke the pleasantries of parks and ponds and water fountains in July; foggy memories of a perfect, half-invented childhood, that’s what you are.


And I'm unfolding like bad origami.

This is all a ridiculous fantasy. Always embracing a memory. Your neck blooming outward into two perfect shoulders, your fingers on a pencil, your feet pressing down on the ground between us, the smell of the recollection of a smell.

I'll migrate with the geese this time next year, remembering to wish harder for better luck.

#8: Hand-Holding & Secret Smiles

For you Yes you