+ borrowed from one to the next +

the 25th year on the 17th day,
gone.
a had a limitless abyss while planes stretched their wings over the seas of my living room window.
we'd stuff pussy willows into the
shelves of the floor;
hide candies that would
rot
until the hunt was complete.

we all had tempers.
terrible ones.
ones that singed the edges
of our blankets that were thrown away.

they were in hong kong
or egypt
or new york
or florence
or prague.
they were always somewhere
else.

we were expected to have
plans.
great ones.
ones that would make us shine like diamonds.
rare ones.

i forgive everyone for everything in every time and every day.
i have enough anger
for a well to spill
over.

i think i might
just
let some of it
go now.