Photo by Chris McNamee
We need to get back to Camden Yard.
When the future was ours, not just yours.
My head in your lap while you stroke my hair (as I’ve always asked you to do)
but with one eye on your phone and the other one the door.
There’s no such thing as a simple solution to our problems. No easy answers.
Trouble comes in waves and when it does, it consumes every part of your life.
And while we can push through this torrential downpour of nonsense and hard luck, we’ll never look at the rain the same because we’ll never be the same.
Knowing that, I can already hear the roar of the whitecaps turning.