Monday, October 11, 2010


you take all the folded towels out of the basket. you leave sand in my bed. you relieve the bookshelves of all their tidy spines. you strew containers and cups and lids and pots all over the kitchen floor. you eat crayons. you collect the toothpaste and your toothbrush and the hairbrush and my makeup together in the bathroom sink. you smear yogurt on my shoulder. and pears in your hair. you dump the wet laundry out on the lawn. now there's mud on my white underwear.

everything's undone.

you rest your head on my shoulder.

so am i.