the way the air moves in my lungs when cosmo jumps, like he pulls it in for me, every , a borrowed breath, the ache under my ribs when i laugh too hard, something broken healing wrong, but it's ok, because the point isn't to be unbroken, the point is to be HERE, so much easier said now than before, but here we are, and i can feel the sand between my toes, and the fruit is in season, the real kind of abundance, not a balance sheet but a body full of sun and water, and maybe that’s enough, maybe it always was.