chivalry isn’t dead, so

i walk you home in the dark past the church and the middle school.

with two girls, it’s always a question. who pays, who walks home alone, who

takes her mask off first on the doorstep. you know.

who would. who wanted to.

tonight we only reach the sidewalk, the mailbox. it’s late and i’m tired and

everything’s a little colder than i expected.

we laugh a little bit in the quiet. we wait.

on the walk home, the wind pulls through my hair and

i write a letter of resignation 

from the bureau of hopeless romantics.

i should grow up, find a more profitable profession.

as i unlock the door, 

creep up creaky stairs and 

slip past heavy bedrooms,

i am climbing up the ladder again.

the air is sweet up here, a breeze pricking at my wet skin.

legs dangle over the edge, kicking.

so delicious and so easy, to jump

back in.