“So how was it?” The girl asked, arms crossed. The rain was like cat spit.
“How was what?”
“Leaving home.” Their footsteps were silent on the wet pavement. “I don’t know, I guess dying is a lot like going off to college.”
“I missed you.”
“Even though I let you die?”
“Especially because of that.
I watched them cut down the forest; Carry the tress up a grey hill; Turn the bodies into buttons For elevators so that we Can go up And go down.