Being better is hard.
When I was young I refused
to swallow watermelon seeds
Fearing germination 
so sure of soil soaking my gut 
Feeling my hard rind for a rib cage.
I did not learn to lean into
growth or decay
Stagnation encourages dust 
My feet always shadowed
My throat always coated
Being better is hard.
I absorb night air 
Coat the inside of my mouth 
with honeysuckle sweetness 
and open my palms wide.
Being better is hard 
shut in closed cars 
Inside thin-skinned envelopes 
But easier On the River
In my bed
and without you.