mdstr1511

i wish i was young as a mayfly
and my wings didnt break
and love wouldn't die
to play in the seaside smooth-stones
with my brother as little
as a needle-eye

he was when i collected them,
he helped with the buckets
we concocted secret plans
of scientists and rockets

theres a washed up driftwood
where we seeked and hid
there must have been something
to leave the woody gap
in the woods in me
the lack

now i feel like i'm seaglass
from a pitcher never filled 
or crashed against others like me
i crave and i repress
the futile social alchemy