at night the mountains look like the backs of furry animals:
alive, under so many stars;
and in the day the world is blinding and white,
but still we make our way through the snow.
we are covering quite a bit of ground together in this short time –
but why wait?
in a few days I’ll be gone to Africa
why shouldn’t you see the Amish buggies that drive down the lane?
and know that I spent my childhood in a brick house that smelled of boiled Brussels sprouts?
what I mean is,
why stick to someone else’s timeline
when we know exactly the ending we want?