You…
And the walk behind
Neighborhood churches,
Past the soft whispered
Air conditioners--
With the concrete platforms,
To look for,
Four-leafed clovers,
Or any leafed clover
Cause they taste so good.
You hold my hand
And I start dancing,
Though the lines of
Fearless fire ants,
Salvaging the last
Of lollipops left there
Bitter, sweet delight
Of preschooler’s
vacation bible classes.
Make me feel…
Those same chills
One gets--
Confusing lust with love
In adolescence,
Our prepubescent mind games,
And overheated expectations
Of the long await.
Like a kid…
And then--
We’re back attacking
This old argument.
Bickered insignificance
And wasted time.
Both astray from states
Of mind we’d chose to be in--
Independence…bought and lost
Again…
But right this time.
Cyclic motion spinning
Spinning
Peace apart from mine.
You seem to fade away,
All space conforming.
This round took a day
And seven mournings.