Pages rustle past as I close my eyes
And begin

The history of those
Who cannot choose their own histories for
Fear of messing some crucial element up or
Adding too much salt to the batter on account of being
Far too distracted by that bird chirp chirping on the turquoise window sill

Jump on top, pillow, cartoon kerpow
A fort of us
Untouchable, impervious
Like every horror movie extra, only

To keep an open mind and recall times
Spent  below the technicolor roof we built one afternoon
And chasing the one member of your family that
Runs away for a romp each time I open your door

Yes, into the dreams we rapidly hunker down in
Anticipation of a bombshell