so small was i then
didn't hear a sound
even though
us pinecones
fell from the trees
with lots to say
but i was born deaf
could only hear
the pitter patter of your footsteps in the distance
you were always too far away
always too far ahead
and
i had
wet earth eardrums
back in those summer days
kept em
clogged up with your singsong sanctity
and all the suffocating weeds i let grow over my adolescent tailbone
and who woulda thought
i would've ended up
with raven black hair
and who woulda thought
id be kissing this town goodbye
before you said your sorry and meant it
and who woulda thought i'd still be alive today
seventeen and still counting down from a hundred
just another old soul with worn out shoes
i'm 153 in dog years
but im still breathing
so that makes me a tree
a tree with 153 rings
that lived to tell the tale
of the lonely lumberjack
who didnt know how to
love.
i am happy today
though
throughout it all
now that ive unearthed my ears from the years of catacomb kisses
and broken free of pesticide restraints  
my smile and my spine will kiss the sun.
all i ask is
am i taller than you now?