Do you ever wonder about childhood?

How, even if you try very hard,

past a certain point,

you can’t recall anything from your own.

It makes me suspicious, of children.

Some are charitable and say:

Littler

things than us are

forgetful.

Full of cracks, that’s what he tells me,

this floor is full of cracks and

letting all the light downstairs,

where they haven’t been paying

the electric.