Saved

We’re using my friends’ children as our measure for time again. She’s taller she’s faster she’s calling out for her mother. Let’s sit on your new couch in your tract home and talk about years past. The memories are beginning to feel like grains of sand. Hard to see, rough to the touch, easy to misplace. New York is too cold New York is too dirty New York is too far from everything we were trained to love. My apartment could fit into your space ten times over should we try it on for size? Tell me about the renovation. I heard you two are tearing apart the bathroom from the ground up. Building her the kitchen of her dreams in the name of Jesus Christ. I’m on the couch sinking deeper and deeper, thinking about every boy I ever thought I could love. He’s crossing his t’s he’s dotting his i’s, I’m falling asleep while he makes his dad proud. I close my eyes and see him perched up on his high tower watching the ebb and flow of the shore. Waiting for the day to die, waiting for the chance to keep a stranger alive. How many rescued before he saves himself?