the gentle giants moving
to the tune of 
he blew his mind out in the car
another dresser in the big box truck
turn away from all the things
of a life 
thistles in your leggings
as you read the news again 

The Things We Love

Things we love are like fruit, some are waxed, 

some are not,

wax only known from the touch,

not sure if boiling a lemon and scrubbing it

ever does the trick - 

there's no way to tell if the things we love are waxed,

no real way to tell when you have peak fruit,

no impetus to say I love this fruit,

this thing, it is perfect,

before it bursts, leaks and what doesn't evaporate

becomes a stubborn cake of residue

where it lies.