from p.1 on Mon., 8/31

• I should stop
  watching romance movies.
  I should stop
  taking solace in the ache
  of how they love each other.
  I should stop
  texting the boy
  I'm afraid to quit loving.
  But I can't
  I can't.

• An aggressive whip of water is sent through the air.
  Left behind by this protective rubber minion.
  Nozzles. flying and smashing
  but it is not left to
  run on its own. Because
  it's tether is also its
  lifeline. And a faucet goes
  both ways.

• The wind whips my
  face as I stroll in
  my big box of white,
  the music lightly sings
  to the emptiness of
  the road.
  My stomach rises and
  falls to the beat of
  the road.

• My hands & feet are
  strained, gripping onto the
  warm, red, abrasive sandstone.
  I'm trembling nervous
  I'll fall, yet knowing
  the ropes will catch
  me. I hear the rustle of
  the leaves, faint shouting,
  & the clinking of carabiners
  & the cheer of getting to the top.