The trouble was that when we jumped out of the stars it was with the sun in our eyes, so we could really tell where we were going until we got there. And then we just had to make the best of it.
Recovering is easier in the summer, visiting other neighborhoods, sitting in parks and petting kittens on leashes. (Seatown, why are you suddenly bringing your cat with you everywhere?) Chatting with people I usually only wave to, corresponding in secret, starting dance parties and collecting mishaps in my fingertips and beautiful things in the backs of my eyes. I'm painting myself into wherever just because I'll have to wait for it to dry. I don't want you in my shopping cart quite yet, but I haven't lined it with spikes and tigers and razor wire either. Not yet.
Sometimes this sort of calm feels false, but for now I think I'm honestly bobbing on top like a little cork girl. I'm not too worried about how heavily I might be weighing on your aqueous humors. In the summer time, there's light enough for all of us.
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