sandbox

You and me sat on a snow shovel.

Bit-lips split. We made millions pretending it never happened.

The Band-aid half-off, my eyes were full wet ‘cause we never learned how to play Doctor.

 

You’re a pretty snowflake in a lousy late October outfit,

Melting men without so much as a knock or three.

 

I’m my dappest dapper Dan in a suit I’ve worn a few times before, sure.

Tuesdays and Thursdays closing early so I don’t forget to not arrive late.

 

Hearmeout.

How often do you question the weather?

Wonder why the sky comes between you and me?

Have you ever asked for a favor after a rain storm?

 

The sawdust dullness.

When puddles aren't big

And nobody minds a little mud.

That.

 

You hit the wind chimes just right,

With a pucker and a pout.

Hooowhoo!

The niceness about pours outta them usually dry folks.

 

We were at once bored and born; ready to play with a store-bought sandbox.

You carried the toys and I kept the wind, a heaven-made match for spent summers.

Slap-happy and fixing for fistifcuffs, the air stifled giggles like bad-acting in a slasher flick.

I asked you what you ate for dinner on the eves of holidays and you looked at me like I dropped your popsicle in our beach again.

 

I couldn’t place the mania brewing.

A funneled mix of just-dried paint and bargain-bought canvas.

Silly stanchions, food-trucks of empty promises

Opening before me like a new trail under a big sky.

 

Then, woah, you flipped a smile so soon after, I couldn't help but rally.

And the trial turned inward to spirals of self-fulfillment

And you were my prophet with a two-for-one deal

Because I stood at your door behind the rains

And asked you to wait for the snow.