two handed love

This morning's sunrise was enough to remind me of blazes and universes and proms and uprisings. Every color of anger and baby, it rose out of quickly fading trees like murderous rage and too soon became the usual blue I've been passing under for ever.

The first thing to greet me at work was a blanket email from a co-drone with a simple message about enjoying the beautiful sunrise on his way into work. I emailed back an itty bitty piece of a poem and I'm not even saying which because fuck if that math for brains didn't email back some seventh grade sort of bra floundering response. Does every penis have to be scared of a little balls on a woman? Don't answer. I already know.