the theme is green
and there are stars in your eyes
as you vindictively plot restlessness
there are eyes in your stars
as you contemplate
the heavenly spread of deceased dust
hey small thing, you’re shedding
and all these dropped DNA samples
will clutter a multiverse
that has already forgotten
what toothpaste you use
where you slept
or that you slept
when you slept
if you slept
the theme is a clock
in your grandmother’s house
ticking like a bomb in the desert
and all the sun from all the days
of chlorine-drenched reminiscences
is wiped away by a single stroke of time
a moment slides home stretched
like the cover over an over-fluffed pillow
and this is unquantifiable reverie
an array of star-soaked ideals
things you will never grow up to be
knowing you will never grow up
even once you grow up
and even after
double-spaced reports on
summer vacation and tax returns
are geologically arranged
the theme is maybe
and it is cumbersome to think
that the stars in your eyes
are made of something much older
than purple