Ants marching. That song in my head these days. The way I go to work only to come back home only to go back to work. Cars lined up along the Kennedy, break lights upon break lights.
On the way home, I see the skyline. The other world I try to know, all the windows between us. We can’t know the way life will turn out, how cold the lake might be. If you stick your toe in, will I feel tempted to push you under, the deep dark place we once knew?