The breeze blows through denim legs sweat drips down our foreheads. Summer clothes stuffed into garbage bags to be placed on new beds.
I like your hands on the desk.
You like this work best.
We are here for the day.
You are here as each moment passes away.
Turn my bones into meal.
So we can bake bread with how we feel.
Bury our hearts in the dirt.
Watch as our home grows from the earth.
Set my head to rest.
The city is drowned out by the pounding in your chest.
Home is now, we are home.
the sirens blare as we lay down the voices shouting all around, the warmth of the sun on our skin the comfort and love in our sin, the beauty of grocery stores and our feet on rocky shores, drunk baths on a Sunday holding hands as bands play, windows peering at mount tops and those old ladies in fabric shops, dad jackets and hikes through the woods rainfall on our vinyl hoods, walking through the streets of Tokyo wondering where we'll go.
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