am i invisible under
the cover?
did i tug it this tight,
or did its moss
grow over?
is it me?
where’s this forever
and can i buy
it free?
and how much do all
these skull scrapings
and chin strokings
really matter
anyway?
or that thing
over there?
curiosity comes on
just as messy
as strong,
brow lathered
in worries,
hunched on
crippled
crutch,
i should
hang..
my rubber tire from
any oak tree in
girl’s yard
++++
and swing so high
our lips brush.
Starry Swingman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/grumpygorman/?hl=
..me, dissolved by their mere touch.
