The birds stretched their beaks out and rocked back on their heels.
I stood on the railroad tie, locking glances with the wires opposite as you touched my palm with your fingertips.
Either we were in love or we were dead but we could not be both.
Do You Remember? Our concerns were someone else’s problem and We Knew that love would be enough but we hadn’t considered that it might not matter if we lived on it if we couldn’t stay alive couldn’t drive couldn’t keep our breath going in, out, in, and out again.
This was before the economy crashed, before our parents fell apart, before our love turned to dust on that shelf we’d carefully stowed it away on. Now we’re bound to statistics, to the last few black and white stories in the last few black and white papers, to the roots we’re not sure belong to us.
I remember this, and more.