And in this early hour, we are quiet like the morning itself, she lifts her cup to her lips but doesn't sip and I sit at the tables bare legs stuck to the chair humidity gluing me to the spot. She's all put together at this hour, fully clothed, groomed, and clean, I sit in my dirty clothes and I have never been clean. Suddenly her skin is inside out and I can't bear to look at her anymore and she says "love you" and I say it back and it's routine but I'm still full of ache. I sit still as she walks through the front door, she shuts it, and the dog's bark at the noise but just as quickly as they are startled they are standing on the ground staring at me. I sit still and don't speak but then the dogs stand on their hind legs and stare at me and I speak slowly to the table "ok let's go" I stand up and open the back door, they run between my legs Into the yard and I just follow, mindless exhaustion seeping into the concrete from my hunched body, the dogs stand at the edge of the yard by the rust of the chain-link fence and look back at me, I'm tired still and her car starts pulling out then, I can hear it squeal like a pig at a county fair. I walk to the grass and sit with the dogs, the morning is thick, the sun is still rising, I am silent for a long while, turning to face the home I grew up in and filled with something I can't get name, then the screen door creaks open and little bare feet patter from the steps. i open my arms and he falls into my lap, facing the house he was raised in. I put my lips to the crown of his head and he says "good morning" his voice as soft as the grass we sit on, I say "good morning baby" and it feels like a confession but he's too small to care
