The pact:
I won't push you too far
if you promise not to to make
every corner and edge
look like a video game
with three extra lives
hovering overhead on the approach to the tired, broke down
two inch lip of an outside curb
when I can't tuck you in
the way you want me to.
I promise. This time will be different.
Underneath moon and street light in the dry,
head lit blazed
on the mean downhill to the river
we know like the back of our hands;
this time will be different.
