Front Porch

i could not find muscle in your milk so i starved until i found out that bread was just as good. i could not hide a moth in a whisper, so i learned to speak loudly and throw things across the livingroom. i could not wait for tomorrow so i filled my pockets with yesterdays and grew gray daiseys in my front yard. gray from birth they say, so very, very wrinkled and gray. but you should see them at night how they glissen in the grass. when all the nocturnal threads have been counted the moths come out and gather round my front porch. flying closer and closer to that celestrial flame. illuminated by a seventy five wattt bulb fastened crookedly just above my door.