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I walked into the kitchen to get you, I walked into the kitchen to feel free, I walked into the kitchen with fear wrapped around me. I said this word in my mouth: it’s metal, it’s a truck, it’s a toy. I want to peel it from my mouth and place it in your palm. I want to give it away. I remembered something back from four years ago when it was hot like it’s supposed to be here in June at the edge of Ohio. Something in the way the trees shivered with cool desire. With us. And we breathed. I followed you out of the kitchen, still not quite there. Unveil your heart’s heat, I said, to feel free, cold metal fear fall from me/us, fall clanging to the floor. Stomp it out. White fire. Quit the rides that aren’t cheap. Take time out of shadows. Feel me. Remember over and over again that first comes love, then fear, then love again. Even past the madman tears in the fabric, past the vast cruelty: Love is (though often hiding within the whispering grip of maya). Love is the Alpha, the Omega; Love is the (sweet none) Synthesis.