Measuring the Appetite of the Knock

He wasn't anyone I'd ever know until I had to have someone. It was urgent. I was hysterically social. As young as I'd ever be. Throwing off clothes like shackles. Biting my nails as the ships chugged through the opened bridges. Thinkng. Knowing. WInter was coming. Ant it never really leaves. Year after year. It's a little colder come each spring. And there are always a few less flowers than I remember there being.

We weren't trying to be anything other than estimates of the life we imagined might come after this. We were carving pumpkins with empty bics. Seeing faces that aren't. Won't ever be there.

We were knocking on doors. With sacks taller than us. Taking candy from strangers. Because everyone was.