just the beginning,
slithers off wet lips
like it’s charming.
“Mmmmm.”
Mockingbirds and Mallards
sing of my
slick footprints.
I step in.
I step out.
He stepped out.
We spread together as far as Summer would take us.
We flew down south in high, asthmatic screams;
nocturnal – fugitive.
At first blush they call,
crested blue,
aggressive,
at least to human ears.
His after tastes like a razor blade,
but I am a glutton
and so they
chirp, chirp, chirp.
