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earlier: you curled around my knee my leggings got damp from the water hidden in your breath (we lied) 
we layed we were full of bread I might have worn this disguise

     I fill cracks with lime and salted roads I have an old bag on and the urge to scream and plunder               is my pre-ordination concrete grit pinches my ankles pinned beneath my hips waterlogged and                     taut I have no thought I have no coat. I am next to a tree with two tumors of bark
roughly                   the size but not shape of a trash can. I have forgotten how to order myself into and as this lifeform.