Hard to give up on the day
Useless, anxious hours tonight. I get worried when I run out of words. I want to know where they went or why they've gone. I want to walk up the creekbed to the spring or down to the basement corner where the shut-off valve sits. I want you to bring wrenches for the hydrants, dynamite for the dam, guns to fight bandits, spatulas to fight beavers, hoses for the yards, piping for the faucets, or just a glass — in hopes. You don't have to be thirsty. Next to you, I'll cup my hands. We'll wait.
