If you open me now, she says, you’ll see all my yesterdays carefully put up like home-canned tomatoes, peaches, pickles, beans—the bounty of summer stored

In you there are no tomorrows parading before me their long lists of obligations, their to dos and should dos and absolutely must dos that

CW: Description of attempted assault   Put out or get out what you said when I pushed you back, said no, told you I was

The Wonder Years, the Lost Years I miss the sudden unfurling of passion in youth, the love like camera flash that instant blinds and fixes