"Draw things about relief,"
he said
(because he doesn't know I write too).

Relief--
The smell of California air,
hot eve in December.
Finding out he really does care.
Yeah right, that I don't remember.

Relief--
the end of a knife fight.
Tight pants unbuttoned
by his hands.
The last list of demands.

Relief--
a noxious pill,
the bottom of a hill,
the thing that often looks like failure.