The blood drops formed a heart on the park bench. It was a sign to take risks.

We recorded a 4-track EP in the just vacated bedroom
a sweltering Ohio afternoon where rhythm and breath
became an archive of calculated structures –
bridges that spanned across bruised childhoods
finding similarity that escalated our emerging independence

Years later as the electric bus hummed
snapped
buzzed
then quietly accelerated
its fading noise triggered new ways to say the same thing:
foggy windows a result of leaving warm beds
spread legs transitioning from suffering to kindness

These quiet disambiguations of faith
and its partner optimism
underscore an intimacy that needs a chorus
and a choir of communion