Relentlessly, the medications drip.
It never ceases.
I hang amid the tubes; reflecting.
Benjamin turned, walked away from the headlights and carnage.
Recent memories of the violence; cycloned around his head, reflections seeking repose.
Finally he filed them away.
All except the one:
the final one.
He bided his time and at the bridge, numbly hurled the tire iron in the Schuylkill and walked on.
At the table, I gaze into her soul.
She watches waves.
Awkwardly, we pick at our lunch, a shared Panini, warm cheese oozing.
Her eyes change. She’s decided,
“Let’s go back,” she suggests, “I want more than just sustenance.”