'i like the way
you play.'

that's what you said,
little boy,
when the playground grew walls
and we half-assed
a weak foundation.

and those tilt-a-whirls
spun in my head
for years;
for the years we spent
tangled up in each other.

'i like the way
you talk.'

like i knew what was
going on.
i'll show you mine
if you show me yours.

and these moments twist
and bend
and meld together,
two paper hearts
ripped in half and
into a delirious,
collage of our childhood.