Your hair tied back into a bun. You were never very good at them. It's already coming undone. Bright red strands liberate themselves. This distraction is most welcome, because I wasn't prepared for this when you made the call. I wasn't prepared at all. Driving back to my place. Your voice inspires uneasiness. I back off from your attempt to embrace, because we have a history that's filled with violence that your glossing over can't erase. And I wasn't prepared for you to walk back into my life. I keep my jaw frozen and locked up tight. When you're this close to me, I don't really feel very safe. I keep the door open and leave lots of latitude for escape. I truly admire you, I do, but it's different now that you've come to stay. I think I like you better far away. You're curled up on my bed, you're surrounded by photographs of situations long gone and dead. You're smiling at me. You're twisting my memory. You think that I'm so easily led. But you weren't prepared fot this when you made the call. You weren't prepared at all.