If there's one little thing you
want to do,
don't not do it because it's small.
His ears looked like soft
horns framing the blue sky.
In the morning you took it
out. I wish you were
mine. Come home with
me.
The sun warms our hands.
We're the writers.
They relax me.
And then he pooped.
When you're a little older
you might change the
color of your eyes. To button
my shirts, to screw and
unscrew
his ears looked like soft
red hills, well goldish
green ruby.
And then I realized
I had missed all these things
all along. Relax. Then
relax me. Do the
small thing
at night with it twisted
behind my head.
They will lead to the
big things.