wph

I am out at night because I can’t stand myself.

People are milling on the street. Nobody looks at me. They all look at each other as they pass, and the lights decorate their faces to be tall and luminous.
 

William doesn’t talk to us anymore.

He left us in the closet when he moved out of the house.

Time tears at our gentle fabric skin.
 

William won’t let us go in his head.

It is midnight and I am getting a haircut on the lawn.

I am tired, but I shiver with excitement.

Gentle hands tug and snip at my curls,

And as they fall they take root in the grass.

When I was little I had a big pack of friends. The big kids did once too, and they romped along the streets of our town.

Long, exhausted bars of light in my window
Chase away the late night that came before them,
And prime me for the next one.

I look at the empty kiddie pool in my backyard

In the Midwest summer

My friends used to come to my house

So they could all get in it,

But they don’t like to swim much anymore