Born

in the middle of your context

never send me a text

I'd rather just talk

let me take you on a walk

and explain its the rim-shot

that takes a lot of pop

in it's shot

to crisp for a loose kiss

got to be right in the mist

so I can see a Myra

shining back like glitter

caught the fever

through me

a stick

slammed down

on the round

canvas

painting like a kick

to the drum

in my chest

like a bum

it finds it has thumbs

oh no

are we all dumb

or is it the hum that

holds the sum

of you and me too

new ways of living out our days

through