The clock speaks into a
microphone
A custodian hears a quick
rasp
Two waves push one
another
Are they both excited
You crunched my dream in
a shoebox
You robbed a bubble into
its hollow
why do they stop saying
those things
when they think
Some of their notes are
pails
Some of their fingers
chunks of ice
trying to remove a sky
for winners
The stars shift
over the hood
squeezing the planks
drying on the scaffold
The stars they tried to
pry
into the stars
not that they could move
a truss or a tank
wild enough for their
teams
We were always your team
and mine
They are still saying
them over now
as they say those stars
Two waves push one
another
Why do they stop saying
those things
Paul
Baumann
