A storm drowned us (all of us, happily).
A storm dressed us down just before autumn.
There were no songbirds in the trees.
For two months we had only cards and candlelight.
On the ground, I found you,
on the ground, finding me,
unbinding me,
rewinding me,
reminding me,
that my only home was a pair of shoes.
Clocks clicked memories behind locks.
We dangled bare feet off of docks.
We laid in your bed together, dead together.
I stepped outside, shocked to find the summertime.
My hands in the Earth.
Why did I come to this place?
Why do I go anywhere?