& then I slipped into my walking shoes and scooted out of there

Down in the courtyard
Children are playing as
Blackbirds gather in the trees
As if it’s a meeting to
Which they have been summoned

On this occasion
We got it almost right

But tomorrow
Is bound to be another typical day

There’s the madness, and always skirting the issue. They’re pants, not skirts. And while we are on the topic, it’s organization and structure that matters. Forward planning. Don’t avoid the parachute drop.

Wolfgang (I believe that was his name)
Was a little older than the other boys
But that didn’t stop him from throwing
A tantrum every time he was forced to wear a dress for the parade

Such
Possibility

& when the stairs finally collapsed it was alright because our flight was still there

There we were, carting around a broken fish tank and looking for glue, and the mud was round our ankles and the darkness was deepening. I wondered if your driver might do us a favour and take us to the downtown, but I have always been a dreamer.

Eloquence, because we trusted the moment.
It was always passing. But
Catch what we call “The Drift” and it’s OK.

Last (insert appropriate deletion) aberration wandering
“Walking backwards” the inert wildness of it
She explains everything by a look in her face
Seldom have so many [I am exhausted]
Tomorrow we will (but it might not) happen but if it does

When I get young
I will have a party
But until then
I will sit and wait