We played till daylight failed, left, hungry, wolf-eyed,
mince and mash on the breeze, street lamps coming on.
Shadows long and lawns damp, we wish for June,
the bread and honey months.
In my hands are chains, wearing hard
the skin of well-oiled palms.
I’m light, I’m plastic.
Pendulum timed in the beat of two,
soon to fall
out of sync. I’m pushed, I fall,
weightless in the wake of you.