The forest floor is our ceiling, and and an excellent one at that.

Canonically,

The only obstacles in our way are towering canopies and roadblocks,

panoplies and peacocks, gripping me in headlocks, and

the plumage is beautiful but deafening, and the mornings are beautiful but deafening as well.

and they are still somehow squeezing me all these years later,

all these mornings later.

Those weren’t falcons,

those weren’t even anything beautiful.

At least you always wiped your feet,

we remembered that, and where the birds of prey ended up,

and the foul balls too…

I still forget my fair share of lines, despite the answering machine and so many messages

and having been in so many headlocks,

and if we’ll ever find your missing tooth in the cool, blue water,

I’ll return that windbreaker and

I’ll let you out of that headlock, friend.