April Fox

Way back yesterday, we
spun ourselves mad in the
cold old dark, searching
blind for why and
wondering where
the sea would end
wondering how you walked away and simply
weren't

Way back before when we were small
and looked up wistfully at the potbellies and sagging breasts that loomed
like storm clouds above our heads
we spun ourselves
mad
in search of attention and the feeling
of falling over
spun ourselves into the crumpled
heaps
of bones and dirty laundry
that would carry us into
adulthood

Way back yesterday, we thumbed through magazines
spun the laundry damp and poured in things
to make it soft, caressed the edges 
of our cookbooks like the 
faded faces of lovers
we maybe should have kept
if nowhere else, tucked away in our pockets
creased with age
and worn with fear

Way back then when we were smug and sure and everything
was set in stone and cigarette smoke made shapes against
the sky and we touched
every single leaf and we tripped
quietly and laughed
at all the branches making letters
in the woods, spelled out
every single thing
we knew was true, we spun
madly 
laid down in the grass
never knew that one day
one of us
who wasn't yet
would walk into the sea
and disappear.