Connecticut is stereotypically beautiful in a way that somehow seems genuine- not superficial.
His hand in mine, we walk the rural path where he once roamed- before I was born.
I imagine him here, his eyes aglow- riding a bike- passing by the white picket fences
all neatly in a row.
I look up at him and wonder how we are so fucking odd,
considering we were both brought up in a
land of suburban