Cherry pits and Goodtime while I avoided your frame
Christopherson carrying us quietly... or maybe it was Paul Simon
(I forget)

And I listen to your subcutaneous single-serve salvation
while you're seeing trees for their root structure
watching the AudioArbor curl and weave
with the hue of that little toy xylophone
you two found in some box in the basement
and I feel discovered all over again

I don't know how teaching me a cleat hitch
stumbled into Kant and 21st-century relationship structure
That's a path only you could manage
flanked by a witty remark about the weather or traffic or my day
skimming the depths on nothing more than Zephyr's respiration

And now I know patience was wrong
watching concentrated ambition simply... snuffed
waiting and wisting ebb as you tip-toe to oblivion