(in which we go there, where nothing is waiting)
so i push open the blinds; i push hard, too
i push us into the thicket where we
mostly water and foamy bouquets
and some tastefully scattered thorns.
(in which we find everything waiting there)
you ask me one day about our definitions.
if i answered, you’d agree
we were ridiculous and young,
i push open the blinds. i push hard.
i push too hard and you scream and push back
i don’t push hard enough and suddenly you’re unhappy, what are you, a teenager?
you’re impossible. i think it’s time we take everything into account.
and tastefully scattered thorns.)