it’s nothing but a waste of time
to stroll on the sidewalk, umbrella floating
and stilled.

walk by a brewery, and remind
oneself that no glass spills with
clear grace.

another boy’s pocket shelters
an iPod Classic while the bridge above
raggedly breathes.

I’m sorry, but I can’t claim
to properly believe
but you do look nice
in your Nordstrom sweater
or something I see
that doesn’t apologize
for holes, thin sleeves
or stains of fine little blackberries.

for rest
we roll across lively confetti
like seaweed on plates calmed by the best AC.

looking ahead
with nothing scrawled in our bullet planners,
soft corners rounded and stamping card stock palms.

wordlessly wild
and hunting for more than Lucky Charms, sugar
that wakes each star to leap just a foot’s worth further.

Cats No. 68 and 69 of the 500 Cats Project