Maybe I am awake before dawn so I can imagine the sound of water that will soon rush over his hands, then trickle effortlessly through his fingers.
I consider the mingling of H2O with his DNA spilling into the white porcelain sink, the microscopic blueprint of him that will soon travel down the copper drain trailing off to a secret place somewhere below the ground we share.
Such scenes are circles of springtime washing over my thoughts, leaving me pale green with envy in the faint light of this cool, March morning.
I will wait for a red sky at night – sailor’s delight.
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