and i remember i was really proud of it.
hung it up on my wall and everything when it made the newspaper.
a year ago today, i took the grey-brown frown of november
and molded it into metaphors with my own two hands. looking

Flash on, flash off.
Incapturable, immeasurable.
Maybe it won't be this way forever
but today, only we can see them. Just us.
Our little human secret.
White dots, bits of erasure
on a dark canvas.