The Interlock

You were not too concerned with our concerning age,
with our changing of the leaves,

and when we were very young,
very, very young,
we slept in the fetal position because no one could dislodge us that way,
and they would never question our piece of mind,

and when we got older, we knew we could count on each other to keep hold of the black crayons,
those were the only ones that mattered and now we did not have to hide them,

and when we were here,
in the middle,
we would recall riding in Berta's backseat,

and when we are here,
we start wondering why no one wishes that our dreams come true,
we start believing that only us two really know the dreams,
and especially the bad ones,

your hands were the same age as mine,
they looked at ours with the same disdain,
and little by little,
we would age into an invisible terrain,
where our children,
and our grandchildren,
could only garner visages of our infancy,

because it was ours,
and only ours for the taking