Touching Youth

what planet could this be for boys of ten and then one hundred movement felt, looking at the hardened grain of hands caressed with fingers pressed against themselves absorbing stillness’ breath suspended in each air a pair of warm yet liquid-frozen thoughts captured then released with care youthful power to devour light whose distance now becomes serene a slow suspended scene in the moment captured stretched like bubble gum or taffy compressed into the thinness of a dime time rolled between the fingers ridged and perfect soft wrapped as cigarettes unsmoked, moving miniature rolling pins of skin like bread gathered sweet and then, a fence to sit upon, a wall to scale grains of surfaced roughness where the smooth compare the toughness of their skin to skin a shin upon a polished youth with broken glass of bottles blowing tins and rolls all gathered in their stripes and plaids and paisleys worn - attempts to humanize collateralized machine we all want out, sometimes, we all want in.