the night i met you i couldve no more resisted your gravity than i could stop a freight train with a
feather or a hurricane with a whispered plea to our lord. i couldve been something but you were already
coming dark and hot like katrina roaring up over the bayeou:
there was those last moments on dry earth before you forced me down with your jaw sharp in the dark and your promises slick on your lips like oil from the gulf rigs oozing in and smearing my naked skin so molten we couldve melted all the ice up north away. and then the wind brought the rain and the city died violent and i went from 'could have been something great' to treading bloody water with an armful of cinderblocks: a hollowfaced refugee with no fucking doctor in sight to lay hands on pain with a strong heart in the face of them rising floodwaters.