Coming in hot
. She asks if it’s a poem. I love her.
. These peaches are ripening too fast and the only way to eat them is over the sink.
. The differences in expectations, the differences in forgiveness. Egos and sensitivities and woundings.
. I dreamt that we live in a time when it’s too hot to go outdoors. I dreamt of climate change and blistered skin.
. Cold bandanas around our necks. We eat tacos and make fun of the SWAT gang and I give a complete oral dissertation on the evolution of music festival attire. I like the girls with the mocktails.
. A pink sunset on our left, CHVRCHES in front, a bright moon over our shoulders.
. The sky lights up with heat lightening and streaks of electricity and I feel an awe I haven’t felt in awhile. Almost giddy.
. … if you want another, say you need another…