M. ADAM

You spread wider than I'd ever seen when you said that you choose what you do for a moon's age,
that while we walk anywhere hailstorms still hit, dent cars
and break clothes so we always get new ones–

angry subtitle on a cap-toothed veneer,
you with your thick, sad eyes and walrus tusks, reading Dutch textbooks, yearning
to exist where the rest of us seem to only have been so carelessly.

You've been learning to spread things out, to generate a landscape beyond three chords, suicides, angst & car crashes.

And if our attention spans can last long enough, you whispered in front of the sunset on the sidewalk just two blocks from the park that overlooks the lake and the city,

if we could just someday return to where it isn't pill form with commercial breaks,

then–
            towers of vegetables in under ground greenhouses!