as

they're teaching them how to march

and mark

and march
like they had any sense of why
they
did it
any of it
i
watch
i
watch
and
i
watch
and i'm looking for the future in their dead beat, dead pan, heart break, no shame faces, still jousting with themselves on the rooftop gardens that their parents made for cocktail parties and intimate gatherings of the faces who matter.
i watch and i keep trying to figure out
make all my miscalculations
add up
to something more
substantial than a square
full of money
or a square
full of
heart
artistically endowed to become
a feather in the wind
and a stone's throw away.

i'm pretty sure i only ever learned how to keep pinky promises

and you never made me

pinky swear

on 

forever