#72

they aren't asking for much, really. the most they want out of life is just to feel a little less shitty than they do at present.
they sit, content with box wine and cheap beer, under yellow proch lights, filtering itself on long brown branches that used to be tall brown trees.
as children, they climbed them and sat, watching and pretending, imagining discoveries.
now they climb and sit- only now we carry heavier limbs; tired imaginations, ruined by the stark and barren miles behind.
sitting on the porch, waiting for inhibitions to disappear, along with boxed wine and cheap beer.