It's a sunny Sunday afternoon —celebratory day: the sun hadn't visited your city's sky in ages— and you're out in the flea market. Browsing the offerings among the throng of people: old things ... [+]
in the stream behind your house we absconded with one, he pinched at my cupped palms as we bounded up the stairs into your room we threw the door closed we thought we set him free in your aquarium & we slept that night arms touching bellies still sore from giggling & we woke to a guppy-less aquarium we carried him back in a bucket we couldn't carry that weight with bare hands