16 April 2011


Porcelain 4/16

You were balled up in the rain
rocking on the sidewalk near
the Palace of the Governors

The monsoon was heavy and
sheeting the plaza I ran laughing
and a block away from you I
worried and almost turned back

And your skin was that pale
color that happens when you’re
cold or wet not quite purple

You would go on a shelf be
the fragile thing you are and be
safe behind some glass door
maybe you would still ball rock

Years later you are off the map
in some institution it will
never be clear to me

It will be sheeting rain and the
sound of laughter and the leaves
whipping in trees and the color
of your hair and a rocking motion

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