...

It won't be long before Monroe crawls with college bound students again. They'll drink till 4 in the morning, teetering around on stiltish heels, and exchanging blows beneath darkened bedroom windows. The cops will start driving the gut more often. I'll pack away the sweet ride for the commuter bike. I'll wait for rain, lingering in the alley, talking nonsense with friends, dying with each breath I blow in to the cold air. Monroe is a reminder of past years, of the circles we keep moving in, and when she sleeps beneath us I roll over and whisper in your ear. Something has to change.