The road I take to get to your house -
the long way because last time I rushed I woke up in my upside down car -
winds in tight turns
banks left sharply
only to snake back right
barely wide enough for two vehicles
up the hill and under the railroad bridge
right by that patch of grass
the precipice of a cliff
your legs hanging over the edge
me sitting Indian style a few feet back
wishing you wouldn't sit there like that
a year ago on that frigid December night
before I picked up a couple more drunken scars
"I'm cold. Come here."
and certain fall to my death or no,
I've never been good at saying no to you
so I moved closer
hearing the screams of men who lost their footing
and I let you bundle up against my gigantic hoodie
one strong gust of wind
one false move
and that would be it
but I didn't think about getting up
and that says the most