the opposite of a slowpaced jog

   autumn is antsy and climbing up my legs.

when i walked the clouds were all behind me, running away from this town and i didn't blame them, not even a little. the sun was a tired old dog with no leash, steadily trailing. 

a conversation in which you strongly emphasize there is nothing left here for us to save. our eyes do not meet but our brains look at each other closely.

-you, on the stairs
-love is an unquenchable thirst.