Pearl St.

by Sierra Laurin Parsons

Maybe it’s the caffeine,
but when you speak
to me, you look 
into my eyes 
and I notice.

You point out the sky,
say there’s a storm
brewing. At first, I think 
I am the storm—
but when I drive home,
the lightning strikes,
and all I want to do
is call you and say,
come find me.

I fall in love 
everyday, but
not like this.
Not like this.

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