This is the way, the way the deer made a path down to the water and we followed on soft feet. Then, too tired of brushing back grass and walking around trees, we widened it, poured cement and asphalt, made it a place to back your boat down into. We littered it with cigarette butts and complained about the geese. A bluegill still guards his nest, darting behind the shine of a crumpled beer can.
The way he flips his hair. The way he walks. The way he cares so deeply about everything and everyone. Every way he does anything is “him”. It’s lovely
This is the way, the way the deer made a path down to the water and we followed on soft feet. Then, too tired of brushing back grass and walking around trees, we widened it, poured cement and asphalt, made it a place to back your boat down into. We littered it with cigarette butts and complained about the geese. A bluegill still guards his nest, darting behind the shine of a crumpled beer can.
The way he flips his hair. The way he walks. The way he cares so deeply about everything and everyone. Every way he does anything is “him”. It’s lovely