fix it anymore.
there are worse ways to move through the world than expecting it to surprise you kindly.
i think the saddest thing
would have been surviving all of this
only to become impossible to delight.
my heart is still embarrassingly easy to excite.
it is humiliating, really, how little it takes.
there is probably something deeply impractical about me.
something that keeps leaving the porch light on
for things that may never come home. but i do not know if i want to