After Ballet
You came out
of the Qwik Stop
I watched you and
I know you saw it
it's big with a grey top
like soft little dead birds that we buried
beneath the pine--marked by crayola on rocks
like a mouse
with a piece of glitter on it
an errant sparkle
from a mishandled art project
dead, limp by the sliding glass door
but you turned it over
and in the dirty dust you left it there
to drain, as forgotten as
the meaning in your life
your ignorance is sad
I looked at you while I clutched my pink slippers;
shivered against the wind
and I know you saw it
