(no subject)
I kissed you with mittens on in a suburban tank gaurding against the sleet. I ducked out and felt like I was sliding into winter, onto the bus, why am I always the crazy girl with a bus transfer in her teeth and tears on her cheeks looking for something that isn't expired or foriegn.
I rolled home and wondered how much we need to know about the sins of our fathers, if the notches on the secret posts of his marriage bed should inform my decision to forgive.
He picked me up in his warm car with it's seat heaters and stick shift and didn't ask if I'd been crying. Our bond has become the convenience of his guilt and my muddied attempts to shift through what is true or maybe what is not.
He left me at the dinkytown McDonalds and I tried not to leave without saying goodbye again. We sat for a few minutes and listened to a documentary on his past which he is forgetting in lieu of remembering and having to pick me up in the rain, donate to oxfam.