We talked about heading out
to the swamp land
and discovering what it
meant to be free, even if it
was inside of the national park.

Everglades, that’s what we
decided on, just a year and
a half ago.

My father said no, and your
son was too young to just
up and leave for vacation.

We said we’d wait until
my 18th birthday came
around so we can swim
in the waters of the
unknown.

The ones that hold more
wild animals than the
zoos we went to together,
the waters that could
possibly melt off the
anticipation we had to
get our hands on
each other.

You promised me we’d go,
but that’s the thing about
promises, especially from
your gender, they should
be left unspoken.

So instead of heading out
to where the wild things are,
I’ll be writing stories about
what I want to happen
when July 27th rolls around.