When my mother told me that opposites attract
I had not considered
the constant buzz of my brain
and the calm drifting of the clouds.
The sweet blackberry juice
I lick off my hand
and the pain of the scratches on my wrist.
My breath turning into something visible
as I sit upon this cliff
overlooking the vicious waves and
the all encompassing fog.
Rain becoming one with the bay
and the chaos of rabbits and deer and people
searching for shelter.
My mother leaving town
and my father standing on the porch
wondering if he should follow her.