morning walk at sneeds (RSVP+me)

The light filtered through a bathroom performance of kiss. There wasn’t one redwood name to break, there were Josh’s. His adolescent shed into the sweetest double tree sapling, he offered up wanting approval from the beings he had trouble identifying through the lens retrieved from his sister, or cousin, or mother. 

They would support him no matter tree. They would knee him in the chest and then tell him there were no other boys in the world like his nut. They would crack the branch and hold it to his face taunting him with love, a longing of in and outs. 

The women in his life were never people. Nor trees. They lived in a scent covered with moss, next to the woman who ran with the man who hollered you don’t have to cover your face for us.