Ribaldric sentences,
Laughs and smiles
that we never meant.
Did either of us really want 

to chat that way?
Or was it a feigned requirement
we made up in our heads
Because we were taught,
as bumbling kids,
That something good
should always be bright,
Cheery, with no room
for the dark questions
And hard lines?

Eyes rolling back in heads,
Pink hair of consternation,
The headphones didn't seem
To be plugged in, only playing
As if resounding off the walls
Of a crowded atrium—
Curious glances, quick turnaways,
Downturned faces lighted
By a glaze of blue cotton--
Were the eyes expressive,
Or did they only replicate
The energy of the hunched
Figures across from them?

I am forever distant--
Like pollen once it
has left on the wind,
Isolated in a home
With little windows
and temporal silence.
I see no fault
in being vulnerable
And open, anymore--
But these guarders,
still cover my words.

The sheen of ice
On a frozen lake,
So much underneath,
yet never shown--
Because no feet
Dare to walk on it,
Or come close enough
to break its surface.

We climb up these steps,
on a constant spiral staircase,
Scampering along the branches
of this gnarled tree—
How many times,
have I fallen
And scraped my knee
along the way?
Why do i persist
On climbing, climbing,
climbing?

Come down, dear,
That banister,
its higher than it appears.
Your small feet,
they slip so easily--
Climb down,
before the suspended
Bridge begs your ears.
I drowned once,
in my own refusal of answers--
I havent been that young
in years.
Pudgy hands and forming fear,
Free roam can lead you
anywhere.
Take my hand, dear,
Let me guide
the anxieties you hear;
Why listen
To desperate attempts
at mindless subterfuge--
Its more than one can bear.
Especially one so small,
so pure--
Come down, dear
Use the stairs.