Foam

These are the moments,
Alabaster and awkward
Often under summer sun
And often with a blanket below
Like fucking the teacher after school
Beside the blacktop puddles-
What’s to be said
And what’s to be done-
So different when taped to a mirror.
These where the moments
When paper was skinny
And talk was cheap,
When giraffes where gods
And when it was alright
To laugh at your own echo.
That moment,
When you turn left
Or you turn right
That moment
When you steal away
That moment
In your mother’s arms
When the wave crashed down,
Used to be tidal,
Now it’s just
Foam.