I think about dissipating into the sky
or falling from it
Into the still scene below
Like printer paper laid out in sheets side by side
An improbable checkerboard
The first third of your life is over when you turn four
And the years get smaller and smaller from then on
Like ants marching off into the desert
Or perhaps through one big Dusty Bistro
All bananas and Chinese breakfast tea
Rhinestones on tip jars
In 2016 I want at least four times four
salty seasons
Give me Fifty Senses
A jingling coin purse
A soft wind and my twin
We are ants on a trail
.....Black square....White square......
Black square....White square..........
That's the checkered floor
A jingling coin purse
My twin and soft wind
When the plane turns like a top
On the tip of the wing
I'm just playing
Plain games
