Cough Drops and Foxes

i may be looking down,
but i know i'm with you.

you got me kombucha
and sushi
and an orange mango smoothie.
that's when i knew we were back in the game.

i'll split my screen with you if you keep your eye on the prize.
i'll even let you sleep on the grey pillow, too.

i'll buy you honey bear lattes from that place on willow street,
reminiscent of your old sea green living room,
where our ghosts used to meet.

these shades of brown, grey, and dingy white may puncture my mood
and these superficial energies may dim my lights.

but together?

it's like driving through the cities of our past in the middle of the night.
drowsily mumbling,
filled with gas station food,
the static hum of 105.9 playing in the background,
knowing we don't have to set an alarm for the next morning.

that's what it feels like.
cheap plaster and chipped paint and stained carpets and shitty people may destroy me.

yet no matter how hard they try,
they can't touch us.