The Foot. Note.

I lost the ability to prove this point any further than I already had,

you were the lingering cherry taste on an aging popsicle stick,

always providing the promise and the memory of pleasure simultaneously

There was nothing I wanted more than you,

nothing in the whole wide world,

but you misled Nike into thinking you would put this heel to good use,

but all you did was flee

Who were you after all?

I had dreams that you called me and I answered the yellowed phone in a weathered kitchen and you said you would come and take me out of here,

but I often had dreams that never amounted to anything

Fruition was elusive,

which is why it is fruition I suppose,

always like the apples up there on the tree when I my limbs were to small

to reach up quite that far

Maybe if I put myself up here on a wooden cross you would let your beautiful crow's feet eat away at my insides,

like they had been doing all along

And if you should find this footnote,

you should know that we were great,

with our purple crayons and our sunny dirt roads,

but my feet are so very tired,

and I've miles left of this frontier