Noah

it's high noon
and you're living in a foreign country,
bound by the divorce of her parents
and the laws of your newton.

she's rather skittish, isn't she?
you can fix that.

it's high noon
and you leave her in the middle of the woods
near the supermarket
because the only way to find is to lose,
and you know that better than anyone.

soon, she will too.

it's high noon
she's not so serious anymore,
you're all ringing doorbells down the block
screaming at the ice cream man
it's summer and friendship is tightly wound,
you're full of inhibitions.

the years are young.

it's high noon
and she's laughing, trying to wake you up
school starts soon but you're dozing,
feet sticking out strangely beneath the covers.
eventually her voice stirs you
and you ask chuckling,

"can you smell
what monday is cooking?"

it's high noon
she doesn't understand and you can't explain
it's hard to look at her
after she stared at you snorting from faraway.
the ice cream truck rings from beyond
sardonically in your ear
as you stick to another needle,
wondering how you can sneak off to church today.

without newton discovering.

it's midnight
when she comes to visit finally.
she's blooming faster everyday, while you stew
in your pot.
you speak less than three words to her
because she's your cousin
and there are no words to be spoken.
there is one final game
of ding dong ditch

the ice cream man chases you off the porch
and as you scream into the rainy night, escaping,
you realize,

you can't fix yourself.

it's high noon,
she's trying to wake you up, it's time for her to
go.

the laughter turns to tears,
school starts soon but it's too late.
she notices the pills on the floor and catches

what monday smells like.

you lost but you couldn't find
you taught but you couldn't learn
it was high noon August 7th
when they found you under the sheets
feet sticking out strangely beneath the covers,
only they were blue.