we sit hours together so often
it seems we would want to say.
I know where I'll be every morning,
everyday everyday everyday
keep counting clocks 'cause
i'll have you found out by tuesday.
Will you, me?
in my mind, you're kept closer than salt.
But conversation, i hear,
is led by pony-ride masters
something presses
words
that if even breathed,
would collapse the legs of our chairs.
so i wrinkle slowly,
the crusted spray paint peels off my shoes.
from a child
born charming as oranges.