12/4/15

6:45 PM, she was already breathing it in
Not yet late, not yet early.
The families laughed when they saw us.
my grin so dumb it never passed the third grade.

We rode the paint chipped boar and sheepish tiger
around and around in faded brass, player piano, antiquity-
reminiscent of the nature in which we had come.

There, a million tiny lights played auras in her eyes
and shone opaque on her curls:
      softly glowing greens and reds,
      dancing on the sun beams peaking through
      the window's shade

The white copy paper shield I brought
had profanity protecting, scrawled in permanent ink;
finitely guarding my sternum from
     cracking too soon.
But she folded it and slipped it laughing into
her brown leather purse.
     crack

2:00AM, she exhaled
not quite late, soon too early
A lit cigarette dangled from those sheepish
smiling split lips so dumb they never passed
third grade.
    each step a funeral procession
    each step a parade
"Goodnight, thank you for all of it."