he thinks
about thinking
sinks
into a greenish-black sunken grin
because he knows
what's what

this
once-upon-a-time hand
is now a fist *******
object of mine

I am an I'm
you?
a you're

we've very little time
to mind anymore

omit omit
the democratic gods
scaffolded
at those five fingertips

progress progress

we are
all of us
so short with each other
taut wrecking ***** so singular

do not shut me out
I want in
show me everything

remember when you said that?
we were at the park
holding hands
watching the spent sun gild it all

I smiled in your face
but inside was a calloused thing
white knuckle
grip tightens