I didn’t want to just share

not this time

so I made a cup of coffee and listened

she told me it was rather late for coffee

as the  moon beamed through the fog, casting a misty light in the dark

she hushed herself while our conversation traveled through grassy fields

she told me to give her a minute so she could take in the smell of the air

I told her, “foggy air does smell different”

she talked about generational curses

and how damned we are

“this world causes a lot of pain to a lot of people” she says

“I feel my inner life is on a dock waiting to go adrift,

it’s ready for its turn…” I say…