I didn't like the smog
so I curled up deeper into
the corner of your pocket

when you reach for chapstick
to fight off the dry
there might be lint
there might be
paper leftovers from the cut outs
holding hands
there is still some white
under my nails

I hope you didn't see

I fell out of the hole
along with the coins
singed my sleeve with surprise
I had to avert my eyes when the
check came

I hope you didn't see

put your head higher
toward the sun and you
could be blind and deaf
everything is pretty
when you just don't realize
what you're missing

I'll reside beneath the ceder
wise about what is beauty and
what is molding wood
don't call for me
when all you see is
a rotten bench

I hope you see I'm missing