Last Year: for J. Laurence

and then they looked down at their feet, marvelous mis-match,
and the clock didn't matter so much,
because their deep laughs rang so hard that the hands fell off
and the second hand forgot it needed to move first
and the hour hand was astonished with the tone
& color of the night-noise.
so snow or no snow, they danced with piano keys, and the notes hung like bracelets from their wrists, except they flung them out to illuminate the treasuries of their un-dreamed dreams,
which they were saving
for the nights when the hallway was full of shadows
instead of good things,
like friendlieness, e.e. cummings,
and
fudge.