Staring straight, slightly to my left
I am caught not once but three times by Her
(The Mother)
She grabs at the rain-soaked coat of a loved toddler girl with twists and twirls the train cannot hold their ever elevating song.
I watch kisses and eyes closed- eyes open- offering some last-minute wisdom.
Baby girl tangles pink plastic snaps in her hair and I am watching in time-lapse blinks because i don't want to stare
But i do.
My burden to bare is to bare your burdens.
I am anticipating his next move because i see the right foot tapping Down they come with my heart in their hands, squeezing it so very tight my eyes start to vomit salt water onto the insides of my glasses and my stomache aches. And my feet hurt.
And my head is rattling so hard i am certain it will burst-and then-
eye contact again.
Jesus, why can't i get this one straight-The Mother must be inside my brain helping push whatever thought.
Next thing- I lose it. I am too busy thinking of not thinking i missed my poem.
Selfish bitch i am to use these people for prose.
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