Green grass, then structures, then smog, then chemical dust. I'm at the bottom as far as I can see. And you, well, you're across the lawn cause I said something that made you not want to sit next to me. And am I the only one who saw the hawk above the trees? It seems it's this way too often. And I am tired. The boys are using metal bats to hit their balls. And the trash just sits on the ground while the robins graze in only one spot, all together. They must trust eachother. I draw a line from my index finger to my only scar and you are watching and you are wanting, but too big inside to walk all the way over here to ask me why. I would not have an answer for you.
"So what's the point?" you'd ask, like you always do. And I'd tell you, "I don't know," like I always do. And then we'd stare, and then we'd turn to look at anything other than eachother.