I worry about this world you have to live in.
As the rain runs down my window and the thunder claps, at me.
Will you splash in the puddles, worry about your white sneakers?
Will you think of me as you wake up from a mid-day nap, on a hard fought day off?
Will you pick up your phone to text but think twice and rest it back down on your kitchen table?
I worry that the world's edges are too rough for you.
I worry that I have made you too rough for the world's edges.
I close my eyes and see you, driving your second-hand car, distracted at a stop light.
I see you bounce your head to a familiar song, sunglasses shining on a July day.
You are alone in my future memories of you, but I don't know if that's by choice (yours or mine).
You smile, but it's a tired smile, that mixes with a yawn.
I think about what it would have taken to get you to this point.
The fires that had to be put out.
The standing around and holding back. The silence endured.
In my mind's eye, you change the radio station.
The light changes, and you drive off.
