eating bread and sunned butter upon your thigh under a tree i don't know the name of. when i ask you you sing to me it's a maple. you lift me sky -ward i can touch its bark which feels cool and rough and looks like old forehead. the grown grass pollen itches my nose and i sneeze. snot glimmering on your night sky hair so unlike mine, so like it. tears older than i can count roll across my cheek onto yours questioning