Tonight’s good for that.
It’s breathless, and husky, and lush. Thick with billowing warm air. If this were October, it’d be cold, but it’s not. So tonight’s warm and the air is October-weather breaking, wanting. You could feel where the cold would come from, but it’s not there, and I’m just lost for ideas, wandering beneath it.
Over brick and concrete, my feet pass as cars do–warm and blowing; I let slip those words I keep bottled up inside, trying to impress you as we laid grasping dark.
I’m not sure I did, if nothing, set myself apart.
I may be the same, or more ordinary than I know. But I’m thoughtful, and considering. The wind’s blowing.
My intentions are…
And I’m walking up stairs.