3am and the amphibians still carry their rhythm. A billowing call with no end leaves me in a restless night with no sleep. At 3:05, it stops leaving the crickets to make music alone. There's a pain in my spine that shoots to my neck where it erupts into the definition of discomfort. I guess my car accident is to blame. Perhaps I should just blame Volvo for making such sturdy cars that metaphorically punched my car in the face after I mistakenly disagreed with the driver in front of me, who decided it was inappropriate to turn right on red. That's the suburbs for ya. My car is now a broken accordion bungeed together in the back yard that will soon be framed by tall grass courtesy of our broken lawn mower. We never fix anything.
I've never picked appropriate famous last words, and I've never been good with apologies. In the world of romance, these vices result in epic failure. Either that, or he'll drive away. I keep thinking I'll learn to hold my tongue one of these days, but I also keep hoping he'll look at me the way he used to. I guess it's just me and the frogs tonight.
xoxo,
wes.
