jenny from the block

boyfriend picks me from the airport,

says he can verify that my car doesn't max out at 120mph and i give him a lecture that goes "you have a fiancé and you better think about her the next time you drive like vin diesel" 

and yet, here i sit

with apple and knife in hand

slice and eat, slice and eat, repeat. 

and i cut my finger once. 

aren't we all committers of dangerous acts? on airplane rides i pray

but drive the I-15 for seven hundred miles with my eyes nearly closed. 

love is a risk, and there is danger in the smallest things

and yet we condemn those with a thirst for the thrill that comes from

falling down a mountain's wall and catching on that last clip.

scraped knees and bruised hips are unnoticed against that feeling of raw, pure living.