the way the sun hits him
makes me think he is
probably a star.

iron and ore are rising
off his skin.

have you
ever seen that?

you have to take
a thin spanish boy and
laid him out flat.

and

just wait for 4: 22pm
to jut in through the window
and take a running leap off the bed.

dodging orange leaves and
school books, like a race
is being won it will hit!

the moister sparks and ignites,
hairs retire, an unused puff of smoke
rolls out in a low moan.

and when all that clears,
a late breeze reveals him
sleeping.