#91

We went walking, heavy trees overhead, you counting every step aloud, me narrating your every move. you looked up and a bird pooped on your head and we ran to the cold stream to wash it off. it is fifteen long steps from the knobby tree with the squirrels to the water. once, we danced at your sister's wedding but we knew she was only happy in public. you stepped on my toes twelve times so we laughed. that night they swelled up two times their size. at the restaurant, our waitress was pretty and you said so. it was only twenty-two regular steps to the public restroom where you kissed her and twenty-two more when you came back smelling of heavy body spray and grease. we walked to the bus stop and forgot to count, but you made three phone calls and gave me zero kisses when i left. with the density of trees over our heads again, i spoke the words "i hate you" right out into the air and i layed on the grass next to the stream. you walked fifteen long steps to the knobby tree, then many, many more back to the car. there were no more steps left for me.