away
For the second tower, I turned on the radio. The world isn’t actually the world. Rain finds a replica of me being nothing and death gets distracted. Hour, hour. I carry my fourteen year old son from room to room as I wait for air to sound like air and for one bone to take another under its wing. Make it about birds. God’s been here long enough to be real.
kingsoftrain 
rain finds a replica – that’s really good
thanks for reading!