Popcorn

tell me I cannot drink the air; 

yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger, 

inviting me to taste February in the wind 

and know time is running out 

Sometimes I don’t understand why 

We all try so hard 

To be something we are not 

So much so 

That 

Everyone 

Behind the walls, 

behind the fences. 

Behind the perfect, 

the imperfections. 

Swallow my pride, 

I am not 

The leaves have fallen. 

They are changing. 

It's almost that time of year again. 

Over there, a little boy  

sits alone,