You grow a mustache
I'll buy a car
We'll go cruising on Sunday afternoons
My fingers in your hair
Yours quietly crawling up my skirt

We can tell the neighbors there's a baby on the way
But you'll say **** it all and get another tattoo
My love inked across your arm
And I'll sit amid the garden pansies
Dirt between my toes and your laughter in my ears

When Christmas comes we'll hang lights
Every color I can find
Strung from every roof tile you can reach
We'll be the best on the block
Even when the neighbors complain in February

I'll wear a blue dress
You'll take me out, best restaurant in town
An anniversary in suburbia
But we'll come home with bottles of ***
Wake up on our own neatly mowed lawn

You won't wash the car
I don't want to take any kids to school
We'll get mad, get even, make up
And do it all over again
Make them all wonder where all this began


You and I could change our minds
Go back to the start of it all
Find ourselves with barely ******* entwined
When it was still enough just to go
For a five minute drive
Your hand in mine.

& somehow you weigh on me again
as i expect you always might.
once you were soft clay in my hands
then a hardened plaster when i could not
                                                             ­            breathe
but time has dried you out
and i remember a kiss
                                         but not your lips
i remember the lightness behind my smile
but not you
                      as you were, are
& somehow you weigh on my skin
dried like dust and blowing
                                                  away
wh­ile I stand, warm in this summer wind.

Independent of my thoughts
I have every inclination
to find a setting
sun whose
Love
is only split
by the violent
edge of a mutable
and moving horizon line.

I was but a child
desperately trying
to teach a child
to be a child.