Your Record Collection

It was summer, yesterday, I swear it was summer, when did the leaves turn so green? In an apartment down the street, adopted family receive new keys and a new life, and we laugh at our proximity, how fortunate we feel. You cannot leave now, she says, not now that we are finally here. I feel the creeping tendrils of the city wrap themselves around my fleeing limbs. A jealous partner, it will force me to love it even when I fight against it.

Later, in the beer garden at the top of the hill, we look out over the glittering city and he tells me the million reasons why he loves it, why he wouldn't leave. The drinks amass, the eyes grow foggy, we find nothing in common except our company, and perhaps that is reason enough. We stare at each other's blank slates, paint portraits, assess potential. The night grows long, and colder, the foliage lies in wait, ready to swallow me whole. I must be careful, lest my body grows roots here, itself.