Sleeping in Humbles

We watched the trees lazily leaning against the shadows of nearby houses. We examined the red lines down my arm. Tiny parachutes failing to open. Pressing on the sore spots. Firing up the dying skin in little pink jack-o-lanterns. Pitching candy bars into the open wounds. Fumbling with fickle elastic bands that had we had assumed would keep that plastic over our faces.

Every letter houses a globe of reasons too far way to examine. An encyclopedia of questions. There are answers. I just don't want to know. The girth of their pantyhose. The height of their stilettos. Leave the belt in their pants. Let the floor decide whom they'll wear next.

We counted the snowflakes as circumstance pushed us closer. Knowing how winters on the edge of the Atlantic tend to sneak up on us.

I took an ample dose of what most would call high. Letting it be. Admitting I had no control. I took what was left of my goosebumps and upon seeing the tracks decided I had scratched deep enough.