There's a place for those
like you and me, kid--staring
through this window pane, at odds
for hours. Conversations even out
these nights 'til a year's passed.
A smile of glass that dies too fast
ain't all we're sharing; just the
loudest thing we're sharing, staring
through this silent frame.

There's a place for those
like you and me--where we can go
when seasons roll
               around our guts
               and come back up
in boiling years.
          That place is here,
in this square frame,
with our smile of glass that breaks
           too fast
when dice cast cry out snake eyes;
          ours are blue,
and some are brown.

But she looks pretty
                         happy
                           now.

So it's back into this mirror frame
for debates had through window panes
and scrubbing hard with scalding water
          rinsing off our name.