Napowrimo day 15: for Bob

Force of habit:

I learned from my mother how to jump subway turn styles

Not that the fair was beyond her, just that she didn't believe

Children shorter then turn styles shouldn't bother swiping 

The canary yellow of a subway card happens to match

The daffodil sitting on my shoulder blade. Even after

I left the city I kept the subway card tucked in my wallet

Because I always held, tucked behind my ear, 

The idea that I might one day return. Forever is a word

That rubs me the wrong way, sand paper on skin kind of panic

Leaving is the relief of a fan in a third story window in the heat

Of summer. But the idea of never

never

Returning is the power shorting out

And the apartment getting hotter and smaller and feeling the sweat on my forehead